Harry Potter and the Spirit of Death
by Logan Ross
Summary: Ch 8 - Harry and Draco are starting to find a way to come to terms with what Ron and his friends did – who will they turn to? In the mean time, there is other stuff to be thinking about, and how will Gryffindor react to what may happen?
1. Chapter I

Harry Potter  
  
The corridors were all deserted – everyone was at the Welcoming Feast laid on by Hogwarts School after the summer holidays had ended. In one fourth floor corridor, however, a 16 year-old boy was walking alone, lost deep in his own thoughts. The initial thrill of meeting up with one's friends after an extended period of separation had passed quickly, ending not long after the Hogwarts Express had left King's Cross in London.  
  
Draco Malfoy, and his gang of Slytherin cronies, having kicked a group of Ravenclaw second-years out of the rear compartment of the train, had kept the compartment for themselves so that they could catch up on each others' news from the summer. Draco had been hemmed in by Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were eager to hear what he had been up to over the holidays. All their parents had refused to let them see each other over the entire summer break so Crabbe and Goyle, at least, were interested to hear what had gone on during their 8 weeks apart. Draco always enjoyed being the centre of attention at these gatherings, and as long as he was doing the talking he was content. As soon as the others started relating their tales, Draco quickly lost interest and his mind began to wander. He thought about the only thing he had thought about for the whole summer. He had not told his friends about this, but there were a lot of things that they didn't know about him. He did not like divulging any information about himself to anyone, and although he had spent a significant amount of time with these people over the previous 4 years, he did not feel that he knew them very well, nor did he have the desire to get to know them any better.   
  
He stood up. Everyone fell quiet. It was Draco's custom to stand up whenever he had something to say, so this reaction was quite expected. However, he did not have anything to say, so he pushed his way past all the people between him and the door to the compartment and left, quietly sliding the door closed behind him. Pansy followed him out. She had always had concern for Draco, after all she was attracted to him, as were a lot of the other girls, and not just in Slytherin either. Although few of them ever admitted it, or spoke about Draco in this way, he was very attractive.  
  
"Where are you going Draky?" she cooed.  
  
"For a walk"  
  
"Do you mind if I come along?" she asked, holding out her hand.  
  
"Yes, actually I do. Go back in there. I won't be long – I just need the toilet and I think I can manage on my own, thanks."  
  
"Fine!"  
  
Bitch, he thought. She always had too much time for other peoples' business and for gossip. If she put as much effort into thinking properly as she does into all her chit-chat, she might have passed at least one subject last year, he continued, in his head. Annoying girl.  
  
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he had walked all the way to the head of the train without even thinking about it. He was now standing right outside one of the prefects' compartments where he was supposed to be sitting. He stared unseeingly through the window for a moment then turned away.  
  
He walked slowly back down the train looking to each of the compartments as he passed, but not stopping at any, until he heard the sound of a muffled explosion. He paused for a second, and then increased his pace towards the compartment, which now had smoke seeping out around the door, chest puffed up so his new badge was prominent, now in full prefect mode.  
  
Ron's eyebrows and fringe were gone. Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Seamus and Dean did not know his yet, however, as they couldn't see through the smoke. Harry and Ron had been playing exploding snap with such gusto that the cards had gotten over excited, resulting in a larger-than-normal explosion accompanied by vast quantities of smoke, and the deletion of Ron's facial hair. Seamus, who was sitting by the window, opened it to let the smoke out. This was largely ineffective, although the remaining Snap cards were sucked from the train as it entered a tunnel, flurrying away into the countryside.   
  
"Fumus ablegare" came a clear, matter-of-fact voice, which could only be Hermione's, "for God's sake you two – I was trying to talk to Ginny in private. I've forgotten what I was say…" She started to laugh uncontrollably. Harry, following her stare, began to heave with laughter too. The others went from initial bewilderment to amusement, until the only person left looking bewildered was Ron.   
  
"What?" said Ron, wanting in on the joke.  
  
"WHAT??" he repeated, louder and more annoyed. It was quickly becoming clear to him that he was the joke. He looked around himself, to even more laughter from the others.   
  
"Will you stop bloody laughing long enough to tell me what's so funny???" he fumed.  
  
"You're … eyebrows," wheezed Ginny, before her mirth redoubled.  
  
"What about them?" asked Ron, curiously raising his hand to see if he could feel anything that may be caught in them. He suddenly looked concerned then the concern turned into shock. Ginny was almost suffocating with laughter – she had hardly any breath left,  
  
"They're gone" she wheezed.  
  
"That'll really set off your 'Prefect' badge, Ron," laugher Hermione, adjusting her own.  
  
It was at this stage that Draco had approached the Gryffindors' compartment. He had trouble at first, ascertaining exactly who was in the cabin. Then, as Ginny and Seamus came up for air simultaneously, his suspicions were confirmed. Yes, there was the other Weasley, Ron. Weasel-y – how did he every get made a prefect. He looked around the rest of the compartment. There was Longbottom and that Granger mudblood and then, next to her, his heart skipped … Potter. He stared at the side of Harry's face, which was red from laughter, only for a second before Hermione, sensing Draco's presence, looked at him. The smile that had started to pull Draco's face was abruptly replaced with a scowl as Draco caught Hermione's stare, and as he moved off, his heart fell. He was never going to be able to be close to Potter. As he walked down the corridor, he remembered his excitement at being made a prefect, not because he particularly wanted to be one but because he was sure that Harry would also be made one. He had hoped for a little contact time with him through prefects' meetings. However his hopes had been dashed at the beginning of the previous year. For some reason, Potter had not been made a prefect. To make matters worse, he now had to endure that righteous couple, Ron and Hermione as said meetings, which had become a sort of weekly purgatory. He hung his head and walked slower, now that he was clear of the Gryffindors' compartment.  
  
"I wonder what he was doing," thought Hermione, back in the cabin. She knew it was probable that he was just innocently passing by, probably on prefect patrol. Hermione was naturally suspicious, but she didn't linger – there was too much going on in the cabin.  
  
His heart still felt heavy as he walked alone down the cold, castle corridor – the image of Potter surrounded by all his friends, and Hermione's scowl when she had seen him, still fresh in him mind, much more so than the petty conversation in his gang of Slytherins on the train. Hermione's attitude didn't bother him so much, although he was sure that Harry's reaction to seeing him would have been the same as hers. They lived in different worlds. Draco never had that amount of fun with any of his Slytherin 'friends'. He didn't associate with them too much anyway – he was secret himself away to a place where he could do him homework in private – away from the rest of the Slytherins, all of whom he knew would not appreciate his un-Slytherin work ethic. Actually doing homework, other than Snape's Potions work was regarded almost as a sign of weakness, and most definitely, lack of independence and self will – the very ideals for which Slytherin House stood. All Slytherins were supposed to be headstrong, sly and have a high disregard for authority.  
  
Although Draco did exhibit these characteristics, in fact he accentuated them as his father always told him he should, he wasn't altogether sure that he actually belonged in Slytherin House. He felt that he would much rather have been placed into Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat at his first Welcoming Feast, five years ago. If he was in Gryffindor he would have been closer to Potter too. Much closer, although as a school governor, his father would probably have had him placed in Slytherin anyway, whatever the outcome of the Sorting.  
  
He shook himself. "Come on Draco," he thought, "pull yourself together. This is just a crush you have on Potter. Its not love. Eugh." The thought scared him. He could not explain why he was attracted to Potter like this – for the past eight weeks he hadn't been able to think of anything else, and the feeling that the very thought of Potter gave him in his stomach meant that he hadn't been able to eat much either. He had been feeling hungry when he smelled the Welcoming Feast through the doors of the Great Hall on his way in from the train, but feigning tiredness and a need to go to the bathroom, he had slunk off. He didn't feel remotely hungry now – the thought of Harry Potter made his stomach tie itself in a knot. God knows how he would feel the next time he saw him in the flesh.  
  
Back in the Great Hall, Dumbledore had just finished addressing the students after the Sorting has ended, and all the nervous-looking first years were sitting at the long house tales with their new Hogwarts families. Harry subconsciously looked across the room in the direction of the Slytherin table on the opposite wall, curious to see why there hadn't been as much noise as usual coming from that direction during Dumbledore's address. Glancing along the table, he noticed that there was no great knot of people in the middle of the table as there normally was; the reason for this, it became clear, was because Malfoy was not there holding court as he usually did. Crabbe and Goyle didn't outwardly seem to have noticed, however Pansy was looking concernedly across the hall in the direction of the door leading to the Entrance Hall. 'Draco should be back from the bathroom by now,' she thought, 'I do hope he's not ill.' Seemingly resigned to the fact that Draco didn't seem to be planning to return to dinner, she eventually turned to one of her girlfriends and began to chat. 'Probably about Draco,' thought Harry, before he allowed his attention to return to the Gryffindor table, and the matter immediately at hand: dinner!  
  
"Where were you?" asked Hermione, moving her head in front of Harry's face to see what he was staring at.  
  
"What?" said Harry, returning abruptly from somewhere deep in his musing to the Great Hall.  
  
"You were miles away," she told him, "what were you thinking about?"  
  
"Oh … nothing," Harry replied, and seeing that this was not going to satisfy Hermione's curiosity, he continued, "I was looking to see why Malfoy wasn't putting on his usual dinner cabaret for the Slytherins."  
  
"Right," said Hermione slowly, "but why do you care, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, I don't," replied Harry quickly, and truthfully – he had no concern at all for Malfoy's wellbeing, "I just hope that, as he's not here, he's either ill or dead."  
  
"Harry!" said Hermione reproachfully. She did not care about Malfoy either, but she did not appreciate Harry's wishing he were dead, no matter who it was in reference to. She was also aware that Harry had also been very sensitive about anything to do with death since the passing of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries the previous summer. She looked at Harry and could tell that he hadn't meant what he had said in the slightest.  
  
After what he had just said, Harry felt very bad. As he thought about what he had just said he 'wished' about Malfoy, he realised that even for a quickly made-up answer to stop Hermione asking questions, it wasn't funny at all. 3 months previously he had lost his godfather, a shred of hope he had had, to live in a wizarding household with one if his parents' best friends, snatched from his grasp, just like his parents had been 15 years before. He could never wish death on anyone, except Voldemort, the source of all this evil.  
  
Further down the table Neville, Dean and Seamus were all watching Ron eat. They had eaten their fill, but Ron always ate the most of the group. Just before the main-course had disappeared from the platters, Ron had piled up his plate with food, topped off his goblet with pumpkin juice, and continued to eat.   
  
"You're gross, Ron," said Ginny as she watched him shove another mouthful of chicken with melted-ice-cream-gravy into his mouth. "Why don't you put desert on a separate plate?"  
  
Ron tried to answer with his mouth full, and everyone winced as a blob of mashed potato slipped out of the corner of his mouth on a rope of gooey ice cream. He caught the rest, and sufficed with a shrug in answer to Ginny's question. Everyone laughed at Ron's eating habits, and eventually, by general consensus, everyone left the Hall and headed back up to the dormitories, tired after a long day's travelling, but feeling relaxed with a good meal inside them.  
  
Draco knew that the Feast must be nearly over. He looked at his watch, and saw that he had been walking round and round the fourth floor for almost 2 hours. It hadn't seemed that long, just wandering, lost, through his own thoughts and the empty corridors. He sat down on the plinth of a statue of an execution, and jumped as the executioner's axe swung down with a thud, inches from his head. He edged along a bit, away from the axe. He put his hands to his face, resting his elbows on his knees. What was he going to do? He hadn't been able to think about anything but Potter. During the holiday, he hadn't even been able to escape him in his sleep – he would dream endlessly about Potter, sometimes finding himself awake in the dark as if it wasn't a dream, but was real. He had thought he could hear Harry lying next to him, but whenever he reached out in the dark, there was never anything there, and he realised that he was scaring himself. It wasn't true – it would never be. Why was he attracted to Potter anyway? Was he missing the obvious point here? 'Potter is a boy,' he thought to himself, 'and you are a boy. Boys don't fancy boys!! But I do.' These thoughts were whizzing around in his head. He didn't like it. He was always in charge of himself and, usually, of whatever was going on around him as well. At least at school. At home he was completely under the control of his father, and if he didn't like whatever it was that his father wanted, he would have to do it anyway, or else face the consequences. He shuddered at the thought of his father. Though he would never admit to it openly, he was deeply afraid of his father. He was a powerful dark wizard, and although Lucius Malfoy had tortured Draco on numerous occasions for disobedience, Draco knew that this was nowhere near the limit of his father's ability to inflict harm. As one of the Dark Lord's closest supporters, Draco knew even without demonstration, that his father was a powerful wizard.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall together after Ron had eventually finished eating. Neville, Dean and Seamus had given up about 15 minutes earlier, and had headed off to the dormitory without Ron and Harry. Ginny had gone off with some of her friends from her own dormitory, and it had continued until the three of them were left practically alone in the Hall. The only other presence was Dumbledore, who appeared to be enjoying his own company, as well as his tea and the pipe he was smoking. While Ron was finishing up, Harry had cast his eyes around the Hall and seen Dumbledore sitting alone. Dumbledore had nodded to him, and Harry had subsequently looked back at Ron, to see if he was done yet. Hermione and Harry sat there not saying anything, just watching Ron eat for about 5 more minutes. Eventually, Ron declared himself to be full and, throwing down his napkin, stood up. Harry and Hermione followed suit and the three of them left the Hall, talking about how Ron ate too much.  
  
"Ron, you know you should really eat more greens," said Hermione, matter-of-factly.  
  
"Hermione, leave off me will you? You're starting to sound like my mum."  
  
"You listen to what she says as well, then," contested Hermione light-heartedly, and Ron smiled.  
  
"Yeah!!"  
  
Harry yawned widely and picked up the pace towards the dormitory. "I'd forgotten how tiring it is to watch Ron eat," he jested to his friends. Hermione giggled, and Ron punched his arm. Harry hit him back, laughing. A little further on down the corridor Ron tried to get Harry again, around Hermione's back, but Harry was walking further away from Hermione than Ron had anticipated, and Ron ended up walking with his arm over Hermione's shoulder. She giggled. Ron, glancing at Harry, removed his hand, the tips of his ears turning pink, like they always did when he was embarrassed.  
  
"You look really cute when you're embarrassed," said Hermione, rubbing her shoulder against Ron as they walked, "you can put your hand back if you want." Ron looked at her, and then at Harry, then slowly put his arm back. Harry stared, as his two best friends walked down the corridor together, holding each other.  
  
"What did you say you did this summer, Ron?" he asked, amused. Ron looked at the floor as they walked along a fourth-floor corridor, having been diverted by a staircase that had decided to move right after they had stepped onto it.  
  
"Oh, nothing special," replied Hermione, digging Ron gently in the side with her elbow.  
  
"Right," said Harry, raising his eyebrows briefly. He did not say anything more – he had always seen something between Ron and Hermione, especially in the way they argued, but he had never thought that they would actually start dating each other. He had never thought that Hermione would let anything get in the way of her school work, and well, it just wasn't Ron's style.  
  
Over the next few weeks, it turned out that Hermione wasn't letting it get in the way of her school work. She did spend a lot of time with Ron, usually helping him with his homework, hers of course always complete well ahead of schedule. Harry was amused to see that she hadn't managed to alter Ron's study regime, not through lack of trying however. Ever since she had met Ron she had frequently expressed her disapproval for the way he worked, and now that they were spending virtually every waking hour together, she mentioned it at least twice an hour, it seemed. Ron ignored her on this front, as he always had, and in that respect, things were completely normal – same as ever.  
  
Also the same as ever were his Potions lessons. Snape was still derisive of Harry's efforts at his subject, but no matter how hard he tried, he didn't seem to have what it took to do well in potions. He nearly always achieved the right outcome, but his potions were never very strong. Snape told him that he had completely the wrong attitude towards his work. "You have to concentrate, Potter. You have to want your potion to work, to become potent. This is not cookery – you have to put some effort into it. Of course, perhaps you're just not powerful enough, magically. Is it too much for poor Potty?"  
  
The Slytherins cackled, and Snape smiled at the effect of his little joke. He loved deriding Potter, and his appreciative Slytherin audience made it even more enjoyable. Malfoy was laughing loudly, so hard in fact, that it sounded forced. Snape, taking Harry's last piece of homework, walked over to Malfoy's bench. Harry, following Snape to Malfoy's bench with his eyes, was surprised to see that Draco was returning his stare. Draco immediately looked back at Snape. Harry felt odd – there hadn't been any malice in Malfoy's stare. He was brought back to Potions with a bump: "Another E, Mr Potter, tut tut. You're grades are poorer even than Longbottom's. And that's going some." The Slytherins laughed appreciatively, as Snape dipped the parchment into Draco's cauldron. As Harry watched, he saw Draco make an odd sort of movement that turned out to be more of a jolt, like someone had poked him in the side. It was as if he had tried to stop Snape, but caught himself just in time. Snape withdrew his hand, but the homework was gone. "You see Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy's Invisibility Potion works perfectly. If sure if I had put these useless notes into your cauldron that I would have ended up with nothing more than a soggy piece of parchment. Oh, and 10 points from Gryffindor for a distinct lack of effort in your homework." He threw Harry's homework into the air – nobody could see it, but they could hear it fluttering to the ground. "Potter, you will remain behind until you have found your homework. You will return here at sunset, when Mr Malfoy will be here to instruct you on how to brew the potion properly. For this, Mr Malfoy will receive fifty House points," he added, to Draco. "You will redo the homework over and over until you achieve full marks. No help from Miss Granger either." Snape walked to the corner of the dungeon classroom, and drew a dripping piece of parchment from a small cauldron on an unused desk. "Another potion of Mr Malfoy's," he sneered at Harry, "he's such a good student – you will do your homework on this, Potter. I will know if you cheat. If you do cheat, or make a mistake, all your work up to that point will vanish, until you write the whole lot without error. You will hand this in to me by Monday morning."  
  
Draco, having had to put on a show about how annoyed he was at having to give Harry Potter remedial Potions lessons, was actually quite excited by the idea. He looked forward to having Potter all to himself for a whole evening. He knew that Snape would not be present because every Friday Dumbledore summoned all the teachers to his office for a progress meeting. There was no reason for there to be no meeting tonight – Snape could not miss a meeting with the headmaster because a student couldn't complete a simple potion. There were six other nights in the week when this could take place. He laid back against his pillows – lying right in the middle of the four, carved posters of the bed, with the hangings drawn around him. He enjoyed just lying there on his own. It was the only private space a student had in a school such as Hogwarts. He lay there thinking. He had had opportunities to be alone with Potter in the past, neither as opportune as this however. The first one had been in their first year – Draco had challenged Harry to a wizards duel in the Trophy Room. Filch had somehow found out though, so there was no way he was going to risk being caught out of bed with Harry Potter. The second was when the pair of them had been on detention for wandering the castle at night – he and Harry had been grouped together with Fang, Hagrid's dog, for an expedition into the Forbidden Forest. Draco would never forget that experience in his whole life. It was the most frightening memory he had, other than being tortured by his father. He squirmed at the thought of both of these memories. Harry could have died that night. Draco hadn't had any idea of his feelings at that time, and he wondered for a moment how he might not be in the turmoil he was in presently if Quirrel had just managed to kill Potter. 'That would have been terrible,' he thought.  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to think rationally through how he intended to carry out the evening. He tried initially to work it out like a teacher's lesson plan. He would work alongside Potter, to show him how do complete each stage, and then he would help Potter to complete his own potion. He wondered whether he should be derisive of Potter. After all, he had always worked under the illusion that he hated Potter. He was sure that Potter really did hate him as a result of this however, it had only been meant to make Draco himself appear popular among his friends, controlling and dominant – a real man. He had been showing off for Potter's benefit. 'Popular among that lot,' he sneered to himself, 'those hopeless drones who can't think for themselves, who don't even know who I am. They know my name, of course, who hasn't heard the name Malfoy? But they know nothing about me really. They do not know that I have been tortured by my father. They do not know how I feel or who I feel it for. They think I'm carrying on with Pansy – playing hard-to-get for her benefit, when the silly bitch really can't take the hint that I'm not remotely interested.' He paused for a moment on this last thought, and tried to think through and order, in his mind, people whom he had felt this way about in that past. Over the past few weeks, whether he liked it or not, he had become convinced that this was not just a silly teenage crush – his heart skipped a beat every time he looked at Potter, every time he heard his voice, or the sound of his laughter. It was a very short list – and none of them were female. There was, in fact, only one name on Draco's mental list, and that was Harry's.  
  
The thought that he might not be 'normal' scared him. He did not know how to deal with it, or whether he actually needed to worry about it. He decided that he did need to worry about it, but he had nobody whom he was prepared to talk to about it. All the people he usually associated with in the common room considered themselves to be his friends however, he did not feel that any of them were true friends. Not friends to him like Weasley and Granger were to Potter. He wanted to be part of that. He had no idea how he could be though. Granger might get used to the idea of him and Potter being together, but Weasley could never accept Draco. 'Hold on,' he thought – he almost said it out loud, 'you're jumping way ahead of yourself here, Draco my man – you've got to teach Potter how to brew potions. You're not going on a date with him, you probably never will. Just because you feel this way doesn't mean that he will reciprocate. Thinking about Potter was arousing him. He could feel it. It happened more and more recently, although he tried his best to ignore it, it wouldn't stop. He'd given in to it every time, however he was determined this time to ignore it and concentrate on the task in hand. Making sure that his arousal was not obvious to anyone who might be in the dormitory, he ripped the hangings of his bed back, and marched to the bathroom to take a shower.  
  
Harry was fuming. Not only had Professor Snape destroyed his homework, humiliated him in front of his friends and the Slytherins and given him 2 days to redo that homework on his own, he was making him spend the evening with Draco Malfoy as well. He was sure that he wasn't going go learn anything from Malfoy.  
  
"Snape'll be at his department meeting with Dumbledore, so Malfoy's going to be insufferable. I actually want to learn how to brew this potion – and I don't want Malfoy to be there taking the piss when I fuck up," he complained to Ron in the dormitory.   
  
Hermione had just reminded him that he needed to be in the dungeons by sunset. He hadn't needed reminding, but he was annoyed anyway. He crammed the homework that Snape had set him into his bag and swung it onto his back.   
  
"See you in the morning," he said to Ron, "don't wait up for me."  
  
"I wasn't planning to wait up for you," replied Ron, "however I'm not guaranteeing that I'll be asleep in bed by the time you get back!!" He winked at Harry, who couldn't help but smile, even with an evening with Malfoy in prospect. Harry left the room and ran down the stairs to the common room. Ginny and Hermione were sitting having a girly chat by the fireplace. They looked so cosy – he knew it was going to be cold down in the dungeons – he wished he could join them.  
  
"Ron-eo will be down in a minute," he joked to Hermione, who tried to frown, but smiled instead. Ginny chuckled.  
  
"Enjoy you're romantic fire-lit evening with Draco," said Ginny, still giggling. Harry grimaced, bade them farewell and left the common room through the portrait hole.   
  
Standing under the steaming shower of water, Draco was thinking to himself. He now had a clear plan in his head about how tonight would go, or at least how he would steer it. Washing foam out of his hair, he gargled the water as it sprayed into his mouth. He swung his head forwards, at the same time sweeping his hands back over his hair, to stop the water running back down his face. He opened his eyes and looked straight ahead, at the green marble wall of his shower cubicle. It wasn't really a cubicle though – more like a private bathroom. As the water continued to spray onto his back, he reached out and turned the jet off with a heavy silver lever. He walked to the other end of the rectangular shower room and reached for his towel; although the floor was also of marble and was covered with water, a magical finish meant that it was not even slightly slippery. He stood in front of a full-length mirror, watching himself as he dried his creamy-white body with the soft towel. He then towelled his white-blonde hair, and once it was towel-dry he inspected his naked self in the mirror. His skin was flawless – not a single blemish. He thought to himself, 'even without clothes you look fantastic,' and grinned at himself sexily in the mirror. He took his magical comb off the shelf by the mirror, and drew it, slowly, from his forehead to the back of his head. Once the comb had passed through the hair, it moved, and styled itself – swept back, but not too severely; his fringe fell lightly back over his forehead, a stunning, casual look which he hoped did make it look like he was trying too hard. He replaced the comb and took hold of his wand. He waved it around the room, and then at the towel on the floor at his feet. The water vanished, the small, high windows demisted and the towel wrapped itself tightly around his waist. He did have a bath robe, but he preferred to show off his torso. He swaggered towards the door, and walked across the dormitory to his bed. There was nobody else in there, he was a little disappointed because there was no-one to admire his physique, but he was more relieved, because he didn't want people to think he was doing all this for an evening of potions, however true that may have been. He dressed himself in long, green robes. It was starting to become cold in the castle as the weather chilled, so they were thick and comfortable. He checked his bag to ensure that he had all he would need, and set off well before sunset.  
  
When he reached the Potions dungeon, and having made sure that Snape wasn't there, the first thing that Draco did was to clear all the benches away from their usual arrangement in rows, using the Wingardium Leviosa charm to stack them, one by one, against the outside wall. He then noticed was that it seemed to be even colder then elsewhere in the basement of the castle, the Slytherin common room, for example. Standing in the middle of the room, he swung around a shot a jet of flame into the centre of the hearth, where it settled and burned warmly. He dropped his bag in the middle of the floor as the homely orange glow of his firelight filled the room. Next, he moved the one remaining bench into position in front of, and facing the fire. This meant that the door was to the left and the shelves upon shelves of ingredients were to his right, behind Snape's desk. He set up two cauldrons on the bench, collected all the ingredients they would require, and lay them between the cauldrons. He took his Potions textbook out of his bag, and read though the procedure, sitting on the stone floor, in front of the fire.  
  
Harry was dragging his feet as he walked, and took a prolonged, detouring route to the dungeons. He was in no hurry to get down there. He knew that Malfoy was going to be on his case for the whole evening – he had always been extremely gifted at Potions. Though Harry would never admit it, even to himself, he was extremely envious of Malfoy's ability – he would watch Malfoy sometimes as he made something that Harry found extremely difficult seem so effortless and easy. He suddenly realised that he was standing outside the door to the Potions room. He sighed heavily, and opened the door.  
  
"Evening Potter," said Malfoy quickly, as soon as Harry entered the room.  
  
Harry looked at him, and saw that Draco was smiling. "Er…hi," he replied, taken aback firstly by Malfoy's politeness, and secondly by the lack of malice in his voice. It didn't seem, as Harry usually suspected, to have been designed to lure him into doing something stupid, or for the benefit of an audience. He looked around the room. Draco, anticipating the question, said, "I thought you might like a little more room – seems a shame to waste the space."  
  
"Right," said Harry slowly, dropping his bag next to Dracos, and rummaging for his things. He paused for a moment, suddenly struck by the realisation that the first thing he had noticed when he walked into the room was the way Malfoy looked. His hair was clean and well groomed, and he wasn't wearing his usual black school-robes.  
  
Draco watched Harry as he rifled through his bag. His pulse had quickened surprisingly at the sight of Harry entering the room, and he felt a little breathless. That feeling was back in his stomach too, that nervous, clenching feeling.  
  
Harry pulled his Potions textbook from his bag and thumped it down on the bench, next to one of the cauldrons. "Shall we get on with it then?" he inquired, aware afterwards that his voice was quite loud, especially after hearing the soft voice Draco had used to welcome him. Draco looked, and felt, taken aback, but regained himself quickly. "I thought we'd go through the procedure first, to make sure you're confident with it, and then we'd brew the potion separately, but at the same time. That was I can help you and you can see what it's supposed to be like at each stage."  
  
"That's a good idea," said Harry, startled even at his own response. It was surprised by Malfoy's behaviour towards him. Harry got the immediate impression of a warm person who wanted to help and was genuinely concerned about Harry's success. Despite himself, and despite the usual circumstances and enmity between the pair of them, Harry warmed to Draco.  
  
As Draco explained why the potion worked in the way it did, with reference to the properties of each of the ingredients, and during the brewing of the potion itself, it became clear to Harry that Draco wasn't just gifted at Potions, he had a passion for it. Draco stood behind Harry as he read the procedure, and followed with explanations of each step, clarifying the exact steps for each stage of the potion. Harry could feel Draco's warm breath on the back of his neck, gentle and regular, and he realised that the terrible enmity usually present between them was futile and insignificant. Draco wasn't some monster – he was just another human being, as unique and special as anyone else.  
  
"Do you now see why the potion has the potential to be so potent?" Draco finally asked Harry.  
  
"Yes," he replied, and did. No more was required, and Draco knew this. He appreciated Harry's attention and understanding for what he had explained, and took the fact that Harry understood him as a compliment.  
  
"Now to get down to some brewery!" announced Draco – a twinkle in his eye.  
  
It was not a difficult procedure. The ingredients complimented each other nicely and the procedure didn't involve any accessory magic. Draco was elated – brewing his potion and helping Harry with his with a perfectionist's precision. "Shred the daisy roots as fine as you can, Harry," he tipped, "that way the magical properties are more accessible to the mixture because of the surface area. Also, that way you don't get lumps."  
  
Harry took on board all that Draco said. Usually, Harry didn't care in Potions. He accepted (grudgingly) that he was crap, and never expected to do well – hacking rather than slicing and chasing ingredients around the mortar instead of crushing them properly. With a little care and attention to preparation, Harry was amazed at the difference. His potion had not failed that day because the ingredients were in the wrong proportions, but because he hadn't prepared them properly. "Even slight errors in the quantities, at this level, are more acceptable than slap-dash preparation, Harry," imparted Draco.  
  
The time had come for the most complicated ingredient to be prepared – a fresh spider's abdomen. "If any of the legs or the head is present, it's no good," said Draco, "the potion becomes a contact poison usually, and we really don't want Snape to have to come down here."  
  
Harry was nervous about dissecting the spider, not necessarily because he was afraid of spiders, although it was true that he was less than comfortable with handling the eight-legged creatures, but because for some reason he found that Draco made him nervous. Not through fear of mockery or of failure, but in an exciting way, silimar to how he felt before an important Quidditch match.   
  
Even after Draco's demonstration, Harry was unsure; his hand was shaking as he approached the spider with the scalpel. ("We have to use a scalpel because the severing charms we learned from Flitwick are far to inaccurate for use in potions," Draco had said) Harry was a little surprised, but not annoyed or aggravated when Draco came up behind him and helped him to dissect of his spider. Draco took Harry's hand so that Harry's hand was holding the scalpel and Draco was controlling Harry's hand. Draco's other arm was around Harry's other side, holding the spider in position. The contact was quite close, and even though Harry was concentrating hard on what was happening, he was very, aware of Draco's proximity, in a way that he was not used to. Once the spider's legs and head were removed though, he thought how warm and soft and dry Draco's grip was, and how precise and unshakable.  
  
Once the spider was added, the potion was left to simmer for 10 minutes, during which time they cleared up the bench and cleaned their implements. Draco's potion was so potent that the ceiling above the cauldron had started to disappear – Harry could see the water pipes buried in the floor above.   
  
"Draco," he said, "you are really good at this – look how even the vapour from your potion causes invisibility!" Draco didn't hide his pride at Harry's compliment.  
  
"You know, Harry, you could be as good as me if you set your mind to it," he said, quietly. Harry looked up at him, straight into Draco's eyes. "You're so powerful – the magic that you could impart to your potion is huge, and I think that's what aggravates Snape so. Not that he need's aggravating much!" The pair of them laughed. They were both enjoying the civility between them.  
  
"Right," announced Draco, "its time to take the potions off the heat. Then they need to cool completely before we bottle them."  
  
"OK," said Harry, throwing his cloth down, having just finished drying the last measuring cup.  
  
"Hey, Harry?"  
  
"Yea?"  
  
"There's not much we can do before those potions cool, do you fancy having a look at that homework Snape set you?"  
  
"Thanks, but if you remember, it was your potion that Snape used to anti-cheat my parchment."  
  
"Yes, but this is my antiserum to that potion." Draco smiled at Harry, brandishing a small phial of a clear potion.  
  
Harry couldn't conceal his amazement at Malfoy's preparedness and eagerness to help.  
  
"You know, Malfoy, I'm surprised you haven't been laughing at me all night. It's honestly what I expected." Draco ignored the implied question and pushed, "do you want to get your homework right or not?"  
  
They sat down, side by side at the bench, the potions, in their cauldrons, at opposite ends of the desk. Draco had vaporised the antiserum with his wand, and directed the droplets towards Harry's parchment. There was no visible change, but Draco seemed satisfied. "Right – question one – list the three most well known properties of wolf's blood, and the dangers associated with it. I can't believe you got that wrong, Potter!"  
  
After three-quarters of an hour of potions homework, they were finished. Harry kept expressing his gratitude to Draco, but it didn't feel like enough. He couldn't think of any way to make it up to Draco though.  
  
"Thank you, Malfoy, I really learned a lot this evening," he said for the umpteenth time as Draco decanted his solution into a crystal bottle.  
  
"For the last time, Potter, it's OK. I actually enjoyed helping you. You have come from knowing virtually nothing," he winked, and Harry gave a half-frown, "to being able to brew a potent Invisibility Potion in one evening. And you've got your homework done."  
  
"What about your homework?" asked Harry, suddenly aware that Draco probably hadn't had the time to complete his own homework in the time before coming down here.  
  
"It's fine. I got it done before I got in the shower. It was potions anyway, so you couldn't have helped me with it!" Harry punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder, and was surprised to see Draco wince. They both ignored this though, Harry feeling guilty, and Draco feeling upset that he had shown weakness and elated because Harry was happy.  
  
"Why aren't you like this normally, Malfoy?" Harry asked, after they had finished bottling Harry's potion. Malfoy faltered, he didn't really have an answer. He couldn't go and say because he tried to impress his Dad's friends' sons, or because he had been afraid of how he felt towards Harry.  
  
"I…" he stopped. Harry had walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Malfoy, who had been crouched over his bag, stood up.   
  
"You're a really good person," said Harry warmly, feeling warm too, because he meant it. Draco blushed. "I mean it," Harry continued, "I really feel like a learnt a lot from you this evening," he was looking Draco straight in the eye as he spoke to him, and Draco didn't break the eye contact either, although his insides were squirming so much at these compliments from Harry. "The absence of your usual audience allowed you to come out as yourself too," he ended, jokingly. Draco felt a pang, although he didn't know whether it was because Harry had scored a point on him, or because he really appreciated Harry's humour and acceptance.  
  
"Oh, them," he said, his voice shaking. He did his best to control it, "they're only an audience, really, I don't…"  
  
"Come on, they're you're friends," interrupted Harry.  
  
"No they're not," said Draco, and it was clear that this was where the subject was doing to be dropped.  
  
"Which Quidditch team do you support, Potter?" he asked, quite unexpectedly, to Harry, partly to change the direction of the conversation, but more out of genuine interest, "other than Gryffindor, of course," he added, with a grin.  
  
Harry grinned back and replied, "Winchester Wizards, you?"  
  
"Winchester? Well, I guess someone has to." He smiled at Harry again.  
  
"Who do you support, then?" asked Harry, with genuine interest.  
  
"Chudley Cannons," replied Draco.  
  
"The Cannons? Ron supports them too, and that's how I know they haven't won a match in the past three seasons," he laughed. Harry had a warm feeling inside, which he hadn't expected as he saw Draco smile at his comments. He could feel that Draco was also enjoying this lack of enmity.  
  
"We've caught the Snitch almost every game though," Draco countered, defending his team.  
  
"So you have one really good player. We have a whole team of decent players, which is why we actually win from time to time!! In that respect the Cannons are a bit like the Slytherin team!!" Harry waited for Draco's reaction to this with amusement in his eyes. Draco seemed to have realised that it was a compliment, at least to him, bit it didn't look like he was going to say anything.  
  
"Slytherin have a great Seeker, but the rest of the team are rubbish at Quidditch. They make up for it by being OK at cheating. And Gryffindor, then are like Winchester – we have a whole team of good players, and we often win."  
  
"A whole team of decent players, eh? If you say so yourself, Harry!!" Draco smiled and laughed as he answered. He hadn't had a real, friendly conversation about Quidditch with anyone else ever in his life. It was a very enjoyable experience.  
  
"Talking about Gryffindor and Slytherin, we'll be playing you in a couple of weeks, if Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff, as I'm sure they will – their best players left school last year." He paused for a moment, then continued, "although it would be fun to see Slytherin relegated to third in the House Championship."  
  
"Don't joke," said Malfoy, "we haven't had great luck this season. I don't think I could stand being behind those Hufflepoofs in the Championship." Harry laughed.  
  
"I guess we'd better head back upstairs," said Harry finally, "we don't want everyone to think we've been getting on too well!"  
  
"Why not? I'd sooner have everybody know that I have friends like you than those idiots I usually have to spend my time with."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My father makes me hang out with them so he can keep a check on me."  
  
"Oh – why would he do that? Does he not trust you?"  
  
"What do you think, Potter? People like my father trust no-one. I reckon he'd come along and kill me personally if he thought we were friends."  
  
"I think we should be," said Harry. "Friends, I mean." Draco looked up at him and smiled.  
  
"I'd like that," he replied quietly. 'Although you've no idea how much!!' he thought. "We'll have to keep it a bit hush-hush though – like I said, kill us both!!" He managed a small laugh. Harry laughed with him.  
  
"Thanks, Draco – you've been a great help Maybe we should do this again sometime, although hopefully with less Potions and more Quidditch!! I'll just have to remember what you told me about preparation" He started to move towards the door.  
  
"Wait," said Draco, rummaging in his bag for something. After a few seconds of frantic searching, he produced a crumpled piece of parchment. He smoothed it out onto the surface of one of the benches, and put his hand inside his robes.  
  
"Oh – I've packed my wand away in my bag. Could I borrow yours? It will be quicker. The spell isn't too powerful, so it should work with someone else's wand. It'll only be for short distances anyway."  
  
With no idea what Malfoy was talking about, he said, "sure," and handed Draco his wand. Draco took it, and turned back to his parchment. He muttered an incantation that Harry couldn't hear, and then the room was illuminated with a bright flash leaving the parchment with a lingering incandescence, which slowly faded.  
  
"Wow," breathed Draco, astounded at the power he had released from Harry's wand. I didn't think it would work that well with someone else's wand. I reckon this would work anywhere in the world now!!"  
  
Harry was also amazed by Draco's spell. He still had no idea what Draco had done, but nobody else had ever been able to use his wand with any success before.  
  
Draco turned around, staring at Harry's wand, and then looked up at Harry. "That was amazing," he said, as he handed Harry his wand back. He then remembered what he had done with the wand and snatched the parchment off the bench, and tore it perfectly into two. Harry briefly admired his skill, and caught himself staring at the hand with which Draco was offering him half of the parchment. "As our 'public' relationship isn't suited to us talking face to face in anything other than insults, if you want to talk to me, write on this piece of parchment. It works both ways, so I can write to you too. I'm usually in my bed or in the library outside lessons, so don't worry about other people seeing what you write."  
  
Harry found that he trusted Draco. "Cool, how did you do that?" he asked.  
  
"Ahh, my little secret, my friend." 'Friend,' he thought, warmly, looking at Harry. "Let's just test it across the room – make sure it works right. You write to me, then I'll reply."  
  
"OK," said Harry, taking out his quill and ink. He loaded his quill, and held it poised over the parchment.  
  
"Thank you for teaching me Potions," he wrote.  
  
"No problem, any time. Just write…" came the reply, oozing out of the page.  
  
Harry's original message was still there. "What happens when the parchment's completely covered?" asked Harry.  
  
"Oh yeah – you know the spell you use to remove ink blots from homework and stuff?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry, seeing where this was going.  
  
"Just use that and the paper will wipe clean."  
  
Harry took his wand back out of his pocket, and wiped his parchment. On Draco's parchment, the ink remained, but the colour had changed from black to red. Draco waved his parchment at Harry to show him what had happened. Harry smiled at Draco, folded the parchment neatly, and put it in his pocket. As he turned to the door, Draco called to him:  
  
"Keep it safe, Harry. Write soon!"  
  
"I will," Harry assured him, and left the room.  
  
Draco spent a few moments alone in the Potions room, thinking about the evening that he had just spent with Potter. He smiled – whatever he had planned or thought through or fantasised about, he had never dreamed he would have made a real friend this evening. Feeling warm at the thought of his friend, Harry, he swung his bag onto his back and left the room.  
  
When Draco re-entered the Slytherin common room after the Potions session, and he saw all the people he spent his time with, his 'friends', looking over at him and asking him how bored he'd been and how stupid Potter must be, he decided that he couldn't be bothered to face them. He turned straight towards the dormitory without looking directly at any of them. None of them followed, 'thank God,' thought Draco.  
  
He undressed slowly, and pulled on his pyjamas and a bath robe. He washed and brushed his teeth, then went to his bed. He drew the hangings around his four poster, and lay back, snuggling under his covers, enjoying the warmth of his own body. He suddenly felt more warmth than he expected around his pelvis, and realised that while he had been lying there, thinking about Harry, he had become rigidly aroused again. He tried to block Harry from his mind, and closed his eyes – pretending that he was trying to sleep. But the harder he tried to ignore it, the clearer Harry's face became in his mind. His eyes tried to look away – moving quickly under his eyelids, but Harry was still smiling at him. 'Hell – go away,' he thought to himself, furiously. He could not stop thinking about Harry, and after 10 minutes he was no less aroused.  
  
He realised suddenly that his hand had gotten into his pyjama bottoms and had taken hold of his most intimate part. Draco had, of course, done this before – he usually used his wand – and he knew how to get the best out of himself. Usually, however, there was no face, just an object – Draco didn't know what it was. As he approached his climax however, he could only see one thing in his head – Harry. His breathing became heavier and his pace increased – if only Harry were here – if only he could tell Harry how he felt…  
  
His climax hit him like an express train – his body tensed up and for an instant Draco couldn't even remember where he was, then he relaxed again, his hand and the inside of his trousers suddenly warm and sticky. Draco was astounded at the power – it had never felt that good without magic before. In his mind, Harry was still smiling and laughing, but as he lay there, Draco knew how hard it was going to be to tell anyone how he felt, especially as the only person he would talk to about this kind of thing was the same person whom he held these feelings for. Draco had never had anyone in his life before whom he would even have contemplated for a second talking to about such deeply personal issues, but he felt somehow that he would be able to tell Harry Potter about this kind of thing. There was something about Harry's nature, his whole aura – you could see it in his eyes. 'His eyes,' thought Draco. In Harry's eyes he could see trust and warmth. Years of isolation and loneliness had drained Draco's eyes of warmth. He did have beautiful grey eyes, but there was no warmth left. Draco realised in that moment how desperately sad he was, and how much he had wanted a friend, for so long. How, hopefully, he had one.  
  
Draco sat up abruptly and, noticing that he was still sticky, reached for his wand to clear up the mess he had made in his pyjamas, on his sheets and on his hand. He then reached for the parchment he had charmed, and grabbed a quill. He was still picturing Harry in his mind, and was excited to have this way of communicating with him. It would never be as good as face to face – never as good as their evening in the Potions room, but it was good enough.  
  
When Harry checked his watch as he made his way to the Gryffindor common room – its was 11 o'clock. His stomach twinged slightly as he realised how long he had spent in the dungeons – what excuse could he use for Ron and Hermione? He reached the portrait hole and absentmindedly intoned the password, still thinking fast on his feet.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked up from their sofa when they heard the portrait hole open up. A rush of cold air followed Harry into the room before the portrait had swung back into position, and Hermione shivered slightly, and snuggled closer, her back against Ron's chest as they lay on the sofa together.  
  
"Hey Harry," said Ron, inviting Harry to come sit with them.  
  
"Hey," replied Harry to the pair of them, sitting down on an armchair opposite his best friend.  
  
"You're a bit late coming back, Harry, did you have trouble?" asked Hermione, sitting up slightly.  
  
"I bet Malfoy was being a dick, eh Harry?" Ron cut across.  
  
"Yea – I had a little trouble, and Malfoy wasn't helping matters much. I got it done though," Harry lied.  
  
"I can't believe Snape put you with Malfoy," said Hermione.  
  
"I can," started Ron, "he knows they hate each other. And it was an additional excuse to give some points to Slytherin, especially after all those points McGonagall took off Goyle for screwing up in Transfiguration. Did you hear about that?"  
  
"Yes, Ron, but Malfoy hadn't done anything wrong, why him? I could have helped Harry."  
  
"He's very good at Potions though," said Harry almost proudly, and then bit his tongue.  
  
Ron looked at him, and then turned to Hermione. "Hermione, did Harry just say something about Malfoy that wasn't an insult?" He pretended to be overcome, "I think I might faint. Or be sick."  
  
Hermione pulled the half-frown that she always wore when she though that either of them were being immature, and then sat forward on the sofa, looked at Harry, and said, "What did you have trouble on then, Harry? I bet Malfoy wasn't any help at all."  
  
"It's OK – I got it done," said Harry quickly, and tried to think of something that would change the subject.  
  
"Fine. What about your extra homework then?"  
  
Harry sat back and put his hands into his pockets, then withdrew then sharply. Hermione stared at him questioningly.  
  
"Actually, Hermione, if you don't mind, I'm quite tired," he forced a yawn, "think I'll go to bed." With that, Harry stood up, grabbed his back and set off up the spiral staircase to the dormitory. "'Night," he called across the room.  
  
While he was mounting the stairs, two at a time, Harry plunged his hand back into his pocket, and when he entered the dormitory, he flung the hot piece of parchment onto his bed. Slinging his bag across the floor where it subsequently collided with the side of his trunk, Harry took off his robes, quickly changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, school robes left in a heap on the floor.   
  
He snatched the parchment from the foot of his bed and sat back, leaning against his pillows and the headboard. Looking up briefly, he noticed that in his haste he had forgotten to draw the hangings on his bed. He knelt up and reached forwards with both hands, and as he sat back down, pulled the hangings right up to the head of the bed. He pulled his covers back up, then his attention returned to the parchment.  
  
It became immediately obvious why the parchment had been hot – the ink was, even now, still glistening wet on the two words which had appeared on the page:  
  
Hello Potter.  
  
Harry sat there for a moment, admiring the parchment and Draco's charmwork. Then he reached for his quill and ink and wrote a reply:  
  
Hello Malfoy – I'm here. I didn't realise the parchment would heat up when you wrote to me.  
  
In his dormitory, in the castle basement, Draco stared at the message curiously, a little heat rising in his face as he thought about why Harry's parchment was hot. 'Why?' he wondered. Then he scratched a message back onto the parchment with his quill:  
  
I don't know why it would have done that – mine doesn't  
  
Never mind – what do you want  
  
Just seeing if you would write back to me  
  
Harry noticed that the parchment wasn't reheating with each message, but made nothing of it. What he was surprised to notice was that he was aroused. He knew that he wasn't thinking about anything else other then Draco at that moment – his mind was still full of admiration for his skill and passion for Potions, his flair for wand work – the parchment was right there on his lap. He was more surprised to find that, although he felt all mushy inside, he found that it didn't feel odd. As he thought this, fresh images came into his mind: the look on Draco's face when Harry had completed the Potion – it had almost been pride; Draco's smile when Harry had entered the room, his slight breathlessness when he had welcomed Harry to the Potions room. Harry sighed, and closed his eyes. The images of Draco became sharper once he wasn't staring at the scarlet hangings of his bed. He loved this image – it had now moved on, and he and Draco were out on the Quidditch pitch, on broomsticks together, staring into each others eyes with huge smiles on their faces – doing what they both loved to do best.  
  
Draco didn't know what was happening. Harry hadn't written back to him for several minutes, and the parchment in his hands was growing extremely hot – too hot to touch, he dropped it onto his bed-sheets. Holding his quill as far up as he could whilst still writing legibly, he managed at scrawl the words:  
  
Are you still there, Potter? What are you doing?  
  
He was quite worried – he hoped that nobody had walked in on Harry and caught him with the magical parchment. If so, he had just dropped Harry right in it.  
  
Harry opened his eyes, and saw Draco's message. He felt a rush of yet more warmth towards the Slytherin. Draco's parchment was glowing red around the edges. Harry couldn't think of anything much to write, so he merely replied, Yes.  
  
What were you doing? I thought someone had found you or something.  
  
Harry shuddered, but at the same time found himself briefly amused by the thought of someone discovering him holding an erection over a piece of parchment with messages from Malfoy on it. He thought about what he could write without lying: I was just thinking was all he could think of – he couldn't think of anything else, there was no more room in his head with all his images of Malfoy flying around on broomsticks inside it.  
  
Draco was slightly annoyed by Harry's vagueness, although he had a good idea why it was so. 'Whatever happened when I used Harry's wand captured some powerful magic,' he thought, 'this parchment seems to be able to detect emotion.' He didn't have any proof of this, and he wondered for a moment whether his certainty came from a hope, deep down inside of his being, that wanted Harry to feel the same way as he did. Lost momentarily in his thoughts, Draco smiled again as images of Harry's smiling face filled his head. He didn't think he'd reap anything interesting from asking his next question, 'but it's worth a shot,' he thought:  
  
Who about?  
  
Draco bit his lip instantly, why had he put 'who,' he had meant to put 'what'. Draco held his breath as he waited for the reply.  
  
Harry's heart jolted as he read Draco's message, 'how does he know I'm thinking about someone?' he wondered, 'I can't tell him. Not tonight anyway. It's probably just a coincidence.' He noticed that the parchment was faintly warm. Frowning at the parchment, he wrote, Nobody – just about stuff, you know. Anyway – I'm tired. Talk tomorrow. 'Night.  
  
Draco's heart fell slightly, but he had received the kind of response he had expected; it did lift a little however, although Draco didn't really know why, as he read the 'Night. He smiled, and tried to think of something endearing, but not sloppy or creepy: Sweet dreams…he wrote, wanting with all his heart to be able to write more. He stared at the message he had written and, holding the tip of his quill up off the page, he traced the words my love after the message he knew Harry had received, and then traced kisses over every inch of the paper, taking every care not the let the quill touch the paper, but his brow furrowed with the frustration of wanting to know what would happen if he did. He stared at the parchment for a further five minutes, then wiped it with his wand and hid it in the drawer of his bedside table. He pushed the drawer closed, then lay back and stared unseeingly at the canopy of his bed. All he could see was Harry's face. He shut his eyes, and turned to lie on his side, forcing his eyelids down. It felt like he was just staring at the insides of them. Eventually tiredness carried him off into a deep, dreamless sleep   
  
When he woke in the morning, Draco found that he was annoyed at himself for not having dreamt about Harry. He lay there, snug in his bed, thinking about all they could have gotten up to a whole night to themselves. His eyes shut, he pretended he could feel heat coming from another body in the bed, next to him – Harry's body. He reached over his shoulder, and knocked a glass from his bedside table, and was brought back to earth with a thud.  
  
Picking the glass up and setting it back on the table and magicking the spilled water away with his wand, he lay back again and then thought about what Harry might be doing at this moment, 'sleeping probably,' he thought, and knowing he wasn't going to be able to get any more sleep, got out of bed and went into the bathroom for a shower.  
  
On the other side of the castle, Harry was awake. He was still in bed, but was staring fixedly at the canopy over his bed. He was thinking hard. He had just spent the whole night dreaming about Draco Malfoy. He couldn't think of ever having dreamt of a girl in this context, or anyone else at all for that matter. He had only had dreams this vivid as a result of some magical link, through his scar, to Lord Voldemort. He felt slightly scared by it, as things in those vivid dreams generally turned out to be either true or fairly accurate representations of events past or present. He had had feelings like this before, not as strong and not about Malfoy, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it – it was a primal instinct.  
  
It didn't feel quite normal, though it definitely didn't feel wrong to him. He had thought about it before in recent weeks, but only as a 'what-if' scenario, and never with this much feeling. He thought through a list of people whom he could talk to about this and as he thought about it, the most sensible person to talk to about this seemed to be Draco. He shuddered at the thought of telling Draco, another boy, how he felt, but for some reason he felt that Draco wouldn't take offence to it, or think any the less of him for having done so. 'Omitting last night, Malfoy couldn't think any less of me anyway,' he thought.   
  
In a bad mood though, Draco was also the most likely of anyone to spread what Harry told him around the school. Then everyone would know. He couldn't have that. Harry made up his mind to talk to Draco about it – not using the enchanted parchment though, it was way too risky for that. He would simply arrange to meet up with Draco at some point, preferably at night though there was a Hogsmeade weekend in about a months' time. The way he felt now though, he felt he might explode if he waited a whole month.  
  
Harry had no spare time the weekend after the extra potions lesson with Draco. Having not had any time to do work on Friday night, and with Quidditch practise sessions for most of the day on Sunday, Harry had had to do all his homework on Saturday. After breakfast, he had spent literally the entire day working. Come 10 o'clock that night, when he eventually finished, he felt completely worn out. He felt as if he didn't want to have to get up the next day for Quidditch, although he knew that however much he grumbled about it now, it would be worth it as soon as his feet left the ground.  
  
After a fraught weekend, Harry's thoughts returned to his plan when he woke on Monday morning. Ron, and Hermione especially, had noticed that Harry didn't seem to be concentrating particularly hard in his classes – he seemed preoccupied. Hermione didn't bother to ask him what was wrong, and Ron had learnt from her that there was no point in asking Harry if anything was wrong until at least the third day of this behaviour. They knew that Harry would merely inform them that nothing was the matter and continue to be preoccupied on his own.  
  
That evening at dinner, as Harry picked at some food, and Hermione noticed that he kept looking across the room in the direction of the unusually quiet Slytherin table. Hermione quickly scanned the Slytherin table as she stood up to fetch a plate of roast lamb from further down the table, and saw that Malfoy wasn't at dinner. When she returned to her seat, Harry had left the table. She just caught a glimpse of the end of his robes whipping round the door to the Entrance Hall before the door shut again with a quiet boom.  
  
Harry thought of going down to the dungeons to see Draco, but figured that it was unlikely that Draco would be the only Slytherin not at dinner. He really wanted to see Draco. He had missed him for most of the weekend, catching fleeting glimpses of his white face and floppy blonde hair in the corridors, or from a distance as he had watched the Slytherin Quidditch practise session. 'Draco's so graceful when he flies,' thought Harry, absently picturing in his mind the image of Draco's wonderful form.  
  
Back in his dormitory a few moments later, he bounced onto his bed, took the parchment and grabbed his quill. He dropped the parchment, he had not expected it to be warm – 'why does it always do that?.' Picking it back up and leaning on his copy of Quidditch Through The Ages he wrote: Hello. Draco – you there? He held his breath, waiting, hoping for a reply. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, in a way that it shouldn't really, just in anticipation of a message.  
  
Covered in sweat, Draco opened his eyes, and reached for his wand to clear away the mess he had made on his sheets again. Sitting up, he saw that there was a message on the parchment. He snatched up a quill, and took the paper off the table next to his bed – it tingled slightly as he held it.  
  
On the other side of the castle, Harry recoiled as the parchment suddenly became searing hot. Tentatively touching it again, he felt that it had cooled.  
  
Draco, a little breathless with the combined cardiovascular effects of his previous activity and the receipt of Harry's message, scribbled: Hey Harry – I'm here.  
  
Harry stared at the parchment and smiled. Even when it was written down, it was a little unusual, no, unheard of, for him to be called 'Harry' by Draco Malfoy. He continued smiling, as another message appeared – a message which took him by surprise.  
  
I want to see you – where can you meet me?  
  
Harry stared at this new message, excitement coursing through him. Being out an about in the castle at night was almost commonplace for Harry, but with his new companion, it took on a whole new light. It seemed to Harry that there was urgency in Draco's voice.  
  
Draco looked at his message and hoped it hadn't given the wrong impression – he only wanted to see Harry because he actually missed him, not because there was anything wrong, particularly. Draco wasn't sure on what level he missed Harry, but was sure that he did.   
  
"Entrance Hall?" scribbled Harry.  
  
Sure – meet you there in 10 minutes. Bring something warm – I fancy a walk outside.  
  
Draco decided that this encounter should be special, so he centre-parted his hair with his magic comb, and put on his best, green velvet robes, thinking that he could use the excuse that it was cold outside and that these were his thickest robes. He brushed his teeth, then set off the for Entrance Hall, managing to get through the Slytherin common room before Pansy noticed that he was dressed up.  
  
Ten minutes later, standing alone in the Entrance Hall, Harry wondered if Draco had been playing a trick on him, but then Harry's heart skipped as he saw Draco looking dashing and a little out of breath, emerge from a staircase from the dungeons. He suddenly felt very self-conscious; Draco was standing before him looking absolutely stunning (Harry couldn't feel anything except his heart pounding in his throat) and there was Harry in his school robes and a shawl, which looked as if it hadn't been washed since the day it was made, hanging over his arm. The 'shawl' was actually his father's Invisibility Cloak which looked unwashed due to the coarseness of the hide from which it was made, but the likelihood was that Draco had not seen one before.  
  
"Hi, Harry," said Draco, smiling.  
  
Harry could hardly reply – he was still stunned with Draco's appearance and the warm level of his voice which didn't quaver at all, considering he had just run up three flights of stairs.  
  
"Hey," croaked Harry, having difficulty breathing.  
  
Draco regarded Harry. He had hoped for a reaction such as this. Even though Harry hadn't said anything about his attire, Draco could see Harry checking him out, and heard the breathlessness in his voice which could not be due to Harry having spent 5 minutes hanging around in the cold. Draco smiled to himself – a glimmer of hope had appeared on a horizon that had been completely grey until the previous Friday morning.  
  
"Let's go for a walk," suggested Draco warmly. He wanted to step forwards and offer Harry his arm, but he decided he needed to 'test the water' first.  
  
"After an invitation like that…" replied Harry, smiling, leaving the rest of the response hanging. Draco smiled at Harry and they left the castle through the great heavy doors together.  
  
Harry's mind was racing. He hadn't wanted it to seem like he was flirting with Draco, indeed he hadn't really decided that he was going to do so. He was aware that the way his response had come out might seem a bit flirtatious, but was relieved that Draco had seemed not only to pick up on it, but also to have enjoyed it. Harry didn't know whether he was pleased or not. Of course he was pleased that the person whom he couldn't stop thinking about seemed to feel the same way too, but he was suddenly hit by the thought that he hadn't even considered the implications that certain news might have on his pre-existing friendships, most importantly, Ron. He did not dwell on these thoughts, however, and continued to enjoy his walk with Draco.  
  
Harry had discovered, by accident one night, that if you wore the Invisibility Cloak inside out, you did not vanish from sight. It didn't look great, but it was incredibly warm. The main problem was that although it wasn't obviously (to the untrained eye) that it was an Invisibility Cloak, but that it was very obvious that you were wearing it inside out. All the time while Draco and Harry were walking silently, side by side down towards the lake, Harry was sure that he could feel, even though their sides were not in contact, that Draco was giggling to himself.  
  
"What?" asked Harry, trying to sound annoyed, but knowing what was coming.  
  
"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to notice that you have your cloak on inside out!"  
  
Although Harry had anticipated the question, he hadn't thought of a response. They were standing by the side of the lake. Harry, trying to ignore the question, leaned out a little as if he were looking into the lake. Draco turned to face him.  
  
"Come here," he said, gently, leaning towards Harry a little.  
  
For a moment, Harry thought Draco wanted to kiss him, but then he felt Draco's hand loosening the cloak from Harry's shoulders. He relaxed a little, but somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, he was deeply disappointed that Draco hadn't kissed him. He didn't resist the removal of the cloak from his shoulder, but looked straight into Draco's eyes for his reaction when it was replaced.  
  
When Draco swung the cloak back over Harry's shoulders, his plan had been to fall towards Harry so that Harry would catch him. Instead he saw Harry vanish from sight, and almost fell in the lake in his shock. He didn't actually scream, but he the sight gave him a huge fright and he made a sound like he'd been punched in the stomach. He looked back where Harry had been, and looked confusedly at Harry's head, floating about five and a half feet off the floor, with nothing evidently supporting it.  
  
"Oh, neat trick Potter," he said, trying to sound as if he had been expecting something like that. It came out more like a sneer though. "What is that?" he asked, with genuine interest.  
  
"It's an Invisibility Cloak, which I inherited from my father," replied Harry, grinning at Draco, who smiled back.  
  
"Wow," he marvelled, "I haven't seen one of these before, they're supposed to be really rare." The exact words Ron had used at Christmas years earlier rang through Harry's head.  
  
"You can't see one right now," he quipped and Draco, laughing a little, looked back up at Harry's face, instead of staring through him at the ground beyond. "Come and join me," said Harry.  
  
Not likely to refuse wearing an Invisibility Cloak, for one, and being in such proximity to Harry for two, Draco literally bounded forwards. Harry lifted up the cloak so that Draco could see where he was aiming and then pulled him close up once was underneath, so that the cloak would conceal both of their bodies completely. It was an odd feeling, they both agreed, looking at each other's heads with no bodies in sight. The grinned at each other, then Harry's invisible arms lifted the cloak up over both their heads – Draco jumped a little as he saw Harry's head disappear, then realised that his own must have too, as he felt the slightly rough fabric of the cloak against his face and in his hair. He nudged Harry in the side, gently, by way of reprimand for this new surprise.  
  
After about 15 minutes of Draco's experimentation of what one could do under an Invisibility Cloak (during which he had to restrain himself, as his imagination let him go much further than Harry might in these circumstances) they pulled off the cloak, and to anyone looking it would have been a great shock to suddenly see two sixteen-year-old boys appear from nowhere in the middle of the grounds of a large castle.  
  
They walked slowly back towards the lake, where they sat down, side by side. It was quite dark by now, and reasonably cold. It had been hot under the cloak though, so they both removed their cloaks to cool off and enjoy some fresh air. It was very sticky with two people under the cloak, so they sat there in silence, just enjoying each other's company whilst trying to settle their breathing down again.  
  
Harry, for whom manoeuvres under his father's cloak were commonplace, found that he had caught on to Draco's spirit of discovery, and felt almost the way he had when he had used the cloak for the first time. The adrenaline he felt when he had first snuck unseen past Filch, or when he had been on tenterhooks wondering if the cloak worked on cats. He also found that he was completely comfortable with Draco's close presence. Draco sighed then lay back. Harry lay back next to him, looking at the sky. It was an odd kind of sky – one half was completely clear, you could see most of the stars, but to their right as they lay there were thick clouds. Well, the boys assumed they were thick, but they could only tell that they were there because the moon was obscured.  
  
Draco elbowed Harry gently in the side, trying to get the point of his elbow between Harry's ribs. Harry giggled then nudged him back. Soon their arms were all over each others sides as they tried to tickle each other. It turned out that they were both very ticklish, and there was no clear 'winner' of their little play-fight. They fell apart again and looked into each others eyes, just small twinkles in the corner of a sea of black. There was no point staying out any longer, it was pitch black. As they helped each other stand up and felt around for their cloaks, it began to snow heavily. They looked at each other, and laughed out loud together. Then they snatched up their garments and ran as fast as they dared, not being able to see much, back up to the castle doors. An inch had fallen by the time they almost ran into the doors and let themselves inside.  
  
Leaning their backs on the closed doors, they each tried to regain their breath. Then they caught each others' eyes, and began to laugh again. Then they heard voices coming from the dungeon steps. Draco ran behind Harry, who duly swung the Invisibility Cloak over the pair of them, and they tried to quietly manoeuvre themselves into a corner. Just as they knocked against one of the suits of armour which flanked the doors, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson all emerged from the stairway. They all three stared at the suit of armour, before Pansy screeched.  
  
"Piss off, Peeves!!!"   
  
Goyle thumped her, quite hard Harry thought, but he didn't care. Anyway Pansy hit him back just as hard, and they proceeded to the front doors. Checking that the coast was clear, and that no teachers or cats or Filches or Snapes had heard Pansy, they left the castle.  
  
"I wonder where they're going," Harry whispered to Draco.  
  
"I have a fair idea," replied Draco, "Goyle managed to get some Billywigs from some relative of his in Australia." Harry was nonplussed as to what Draco was talking about. Not being able to see Harry's face, Draco didn't realise that an explanation was necessary.  
  
"Err…what are Billywigs?" asked Harry, a little embarrassed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Billywigs. I've never heard of them before. You know, brought up by muggles."  
  
"Oh – poor sod. They're small flying insect-type things with stings on them. They're banned in school because of the side-effects when they sting you. They make you levitate and feel numb. Pointless really."  
  
"Have you…"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Oh. Sorry."  
  
"Don't worry – you weren't to know. Brought up by muggles and all," Draco nudged Harry in the side to emphasise his joke.  
  
"Yea, yea, very good," said Harry, elbowing Draco back rather hard.  
  
"Tell you what," said Draco, "you remember in second year when Pansy was out of lessons for a week?"  
  
"No, but go on."  
  
"Well, she stung herself a few too many times, and was stuck hovering for 4 days, and was numbed into unconsciousness. Stupid bitch!"  
  
"You shouldn't call her that – she likes you a lot."  
  
"And when did she tell you this," asked Draco, a little irritated that Harry was talking about girls, but appreciating the joke.  
  
"She didn't have to tell me, anyone can see it from a mile away. Even Ron notices. You know too, because you egg her on!"  
  
"I know – she thinks I'm interested in her!!"  
  
Harry turned around, under the cloak, so that he was facing Malfoy, even though he still couldn't see him. "Who are you interested in, then!" he breathed. Draco felt Harry's warm, fresh breath on his face and hoped he knew what Harry wanted. He wasn't just going to give it to him though.  
  
"Let me tell you about that," he breathed back, and checking there was nobody around, walked out from under the cloak into the Great Hall. Excited but apprehensive, Harry followed, and the two boys sat opposite each other at one end of the Gryffindor table. Harry pulled the cloak off, and put it on the bench next to him. Draco was looking into Harry's eyes, Harry looked back. There was warmth in Draco's eyes that Harry had never seen before. In his own time, Draco began to speak, very quietly but Harry caught every word of his soft voice.  
  
"You know the parchment I charmed after Potions that day?" he began, but he didn't wait for Harry's response.  
  
"Well, I thought it was odd when you said that your parchment was warm when I wrote you that evening."   
  
As Draco continued, Harry could sense that Draco was very anxious and nervous. It wasn't a normal feeling though, like when you know how someone is feeling by looking at them or listening to them. Harry could feel in his mind that Draco's mind was racing. It was an odd feeling that Harry hadn't experienced before, although it was not uncomfortable, as he could also sense that his reaction to what Draco was saying would affect Draco hugely. Harry could tell that Draco was very vulnerable to Harry. Draco continued:  
  
"Well, during the time when you weren't responding to my messages, when I thought you'd been found out, my parchment got very hot indeed."  
  
Harry began to feel a little uncomfortable about where the story was going regarding his personal activities, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel that Draco's emotions were high as well. The candles, floating above their heads were behaving strangely; the ones around the walls were flickering and the flames were tall and smoky; the candles nearer to the pair of them were dimmer than usual, and the ones directly overhead were only glowing as if they had just been blown out, though there was no smoke. Draco's face was lit only by the ambient light from the farthest candles.  
  
Draco decided that Harry's response definitely suggested the answer he had suspected as to why the parchment had heated up so much, so he continued.  
  
"Well, I though that perhaps during your silence you were doing, maybe, the same … erm … thing I had been doing before I wrote to you in the first place."  
  
Draco's words sounded difficult, embarrassed and shy. His usually pale face had turned slightly red.   
  
Harry could sense what Draco was actually thinking, and knew that he was right. This was right. Draco, he could tell, was having the same experience in his head too. As the tension grew, the blood in both their heads began to pound. The pair of them were having the same thoughts, there was some intrinsic magical force acting on the pair of them. As they both leaned inwards, over the table, the candles in the room were all sputtering as if starved of air.   
  
Their lips met, lightly brushing together, and a huge energy shot between the two teenagers. It was not at all painful, but an immense magical rush and an instant understanding passed between them. As the magical and emotional tension in the room rushed back to equilibrium, every candle in the room flared up, filling the huge room with a blinding white light that seemed to emanate also from the boys themselves. Through his closed eyelids, Harry could see the flash that, once their lips parted again, vanished. The pair of them were left quite dazzled.  
  
They gazed into each others' eyes for what felt like a wonderful eternity. Both of them felt more relaxed than perhaps ever before in their lifetimes; in the whole world, the only thing that mattered was each other. There was a creak of a door. Malfoy was facing the door, and Harry saw his pupils dilate slightly and flick to his right. Then Draco's eyes widened. Harry felt what Draco was seeing and seized the Invisibility Cloak, jumping over the table and covering them both with it as he landed next to Draco.  
  
Draco was breathing quite hard with excitement and apprehension. He breathed into Harry's ear, "Its Mrs Norris – does this work on cats?"  
  
"I think so, better make a move though, because Filch is never far away once that ugly thing smells trouble."  
  
"Right," agreed Draco and, as one, the pair of them stood up and moved together towards the door. As they reached it door, it opened wide, and Filch stood in the frame, wheezing, and looking around for whatever had attracted Mrs Norris' attention. He frowned and pursed his overlarge lips as he stared straight through Draco and Harry, unseeingly. Harry felt Draco's hand in his, and then the knowledge of what Draco was about to do entered his consciousness. They edged silently towards the door, as Filch shuffled into the Great Hall as quietly as he could (which was not very) but evidently he hoped that what he was 'missing' was obscured by the door. As they moved through the doorway into the Entrance Hall, Draco's hand squeezed Harry's and a sound like cannon-fire filled the two cavernous rooms, echoing around and causing Filch to crouch with his hands over his head.  
  
"I'll get you, Peeves," screamed Filch in anger, having made the wrong deduction as to who it had been causing disturbance. Shaking with laughter, Harry and Draco ran down the stairs to the dungeons. Draco was leading, and Harry realised that without thinking, he was probably heading to the Slytherin common room. As they approached a dead end, which Harry presumed concealed an entrance to the Slytherin domain, Harry tugged the back of Draco's robes.  
  
"Oh, damn, yeah right," said Draco.  
  
Harry laughed softly, "how articulate you are, Draco," he said in mock reproach. Draco laughed a little too. "This is your common room, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah," replied Draco.  
  
"I probably shouldn't go in there – if anyone found us… It's probably against the rules too."  
  
"Against the rules? Since when have rules ever stopped you?" asked Draco, imitating Harry's admonition about his vocabulary, but knowing that Harry was right. If any of the Slytherins saw Harry, he'd never hear the end of it. And, his father would be sure to find out. Checking that there was nobody around, Draco pulled the cloak off their heads. He looked into Harry's eyes, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. As Harry leant forward and kissed Draco back, a rumbling sound started up.  
  
Draco firmly, but not roughly, pushed Harry backwards whist taking a step away at the same time. With the hand that wasn't pushing, Draco managed to place the Cloak perfectly over Harry's head. He whispered, "Good night," and kissed his hand, then turned as an archway like the entrance to Diagon Alley appeared in the slimy wall, a pair of thuggish looking 7th years emerging through it. Draco waited for the pair to pass and then walked through the archway himself.   
  
'What if I followed him in?' thought Harry, at which point Draco waved his hand slightly, at his side, indicating that Harry should leave.   
  
'Maybe some other time,' the thought, which was Draco's materialized in Harry's head, and he turned to leave. He couldn't stop thinking about how much he had found he loved Draco. 'I love you too.' Harry smiled to himself under the cloak.  
  
The further Harry walked from that dead end corridor, the less charged he felt. It appeared that the further he was away from Draco, the weaker the thought transference between him and Draco seemed to get. He still felt elated and his heart pumped much harder than usual every time he thought of Draco, but the tingling feeling he had experienced since the kiss in the Great Hall had waned slightly. He greeted the Fat Lady with the password and entered the Gryffindor common room, pulling his Cloak from his head, and folding it in his arms.  
  
"Where have you been, Harry?" squealed Hermione, "it's after midnight! You haven't done any of your homework!"  
  
"Hey Hermione, my homework's fine – I didn't have any left after my weekend homework-binge.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, I'm beat. See you two in the morning."  
  
Ron and Hermione bade Harry goodnight, and Hermione watched him cross the room. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, Hermione turned to Ron.   
  
"He's up to something, and I want to find out what," she stated.  
  
"I thought you might."  
  
"Well are you going to help me find out, or not?" It sounded like a bit of a threat.  
  
"Sure, but not tonight. I'm dead tired. See you tomorrow." He kissed her, and followed Harry up the stairs.  
  
"See if he'll tell you anything now," called Hermione.  
  
"I'll do my best," replied Ron, yawning.  
  
'Let's see how far that gets us,' thought Hermione, 'you're far too soft when it comes to Harry.'  
  
Tuesday morning at breakfast, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together as usual. Harry wasn't saying much, though he was trying to act normally. He didn't really care that Hermione kept pulling Ron towards her and whispering in his ear, she'd been doing that a lot this year anyway, and Ron seemed to enjoy it.  
  
"What did he tell you last night?" whispered Hermione.  
  
"Well, nothing ,'cos eh was, umm, asleep by the time I got upstairs last night."  
  
"You were only thirty seconds behind him, Ron!"  
  
"Well you've never seen him sleep – he's a deep sleeper, Hermione."  
  
"Right, Ron. If you, Harry's best friend, are too shy to ask him what he's been up to of late, then there's no hope for anyone, is there? We'll just have to do this the hard way."  
  
"You're going to…"  
  
"We're going to follow him next time he goes somewhere."  
  
"Like that'll work. One, Harry always goes out in his Invisibility Cloak; two, I think Harry would notice two people following him around, especially if he's being half as secretive as you make out. He's probably just got a girlfriend in another House or something."  
  
"Maybe it's Cho Chang!" said Ron, looking up at the Hufflepuff table, "he's always been really smitten with her. Have you seen the way he looks at her when they play Quidditch? And she flirts right back at him. Hope not though, we can't have him fraternizing with the enemy about our Quidditch tactics."  
  
"You and your enemies, Ron. Last year it was Viktor, this year its Cho Chang, you seem to have something against your friends spending time with good Quidditch players. Anyway, you're forgetting – they fell out, majorly, last year."  
  
"Harry's a good Quidditch player," said Seamus, "what are you talking about?"  
  
"We're talking about Harry," said Hermione, "anyway Ron, Harry wouldn't go spouting tactics all over the place anyway – he's even more competitive than you."  
  
"Are we talking Quidditch or sex appeal here?" asked Seamus.  
  
"Both," said Ron and Hermione together.  
  
"What do you know, Seamus?" asked Hermione.  
  
"No more than you I don't think, just seen Harry leaving the common room and coming in to the dormitory later than usual," replied Seamus.  
  
"Honestly, don't you guys ever talk about girls in your dormitory, where they can't hear you?" asked Hermione, a hint of incredulity in her voice.  
  
"Nope," said Ron, "we talk about Quidditch, and how we're going to stuff everyone again this season. Hufflepuff, to stop Chang from smiling quite so much; Slytherin, to show Malfoy how to play the game; and Ravenclaw because they're rubbish anyway." Seamus and Ron cheered together, and Hermione rolled her eyes and turned round to talk to Ginny.  
  
Hermione noticed that Harry had stopped staring across the room, and was looking at the group of boys planning victory parties for matches which hadn't even been drawn yet. He had turned around at the sound of Draco's name. Seeing Hermione trying to catch his eye, he smiled briefly and then turned back to staring. 'He looks so good,' he thought.   
  
Even back in his school robes Draco Malfoy looked stunning. His floppy blonde hair, his effortless, but slightly arrogant smile, and the ease with which he held the attention of whomever he was talking to. Recently, even the cold eyes had started to lighten up. Harry was quite taken aback when Draco's attractive eyes flashed in his direction. There was a hint of a smile, the mere suggestion of acknowledgement, but there were so many better ways to express feelings than in any physical way. 'Most physical ways, anyway,' thought Harry, and then he saw Draco smile. 'All in very good time,' came the thought reply in his head. He smiled and looked back at his meal. To his side he noticed Hermione looking in the direction Harry had been staring in, evidently trying to see whom Harry had been smiling at.   
  
'She'd never think that of either of us.' This thought came particularly strongly into Harry's mind, and he realised that Draco must have been thinking exactly the same thing, and must have seen her looking across in his direction.  
  
'A-ha,' thought Hermione, 'not Cho Chang – Harry has some sense then.' She had previously managed to catch sight of Cho Chang entering the Hall, late for breakfast, and joining the end of the Hufflepuff table. 'I wonder who it could be.'  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by most of the people around her standing up to go start to school day. Usually Hermione was the first to leave breakfast, and when she caught up with Ron he was surprised to find her at his elbow suddenly.  
  
"Oh, hey Hermione!" he said, "I thought you'd have gone upstairs already."  
  
"Oh, you know – lost track of time," she flustered.  
  
Harry left the table on his own a few minutes later. Draco had also managed to shake off most of the people he had been sitting with, and Harry timed his departure so that he could make his simultaneous arrival at the doors to the Entrance Hall look as innocent as possible. He touched Draco's back as he caught up, then saw the back of Draco's head nod in acknowledgement, then nod once again, slightly angled, indicating that Harry should head up the marble staircase.  
  
Harry walked over to the marble stairs, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Draco made his way over to the suit of armour that they and almost toppled the previous night. Draco pretended to be interested in its design, but was actually watching Harry and monitoring the people in the Entrance Hall in the reflection in the shiny metal.  
  
Harry crouched at the first step to re-tie his shoelaces, as the last of the people to leave breakfast crossed the Entrance Hall and headed up the stairs past him. As they disappeared from sight, Draco and Harry simultaneously turned around, smiling at each other. They crossed the Hall and met in the middle – falling into each others' arms.  
  
"Morning," said Draco warmly.  
  
"Morning," replied Harry. Any caution or wariness between them, which Harry had feared during the previous night since returning to the Common Room thankfully turned out to play no part at all. Draco and Harry felt perfectly natural together.  
  
As they came apart again and stood facing and appraising each other, Harry remembered that it was Tuesday, and that he did actually have lessons to be at.  
  
"What have you got now?" asked Draco.  
  
"Transfiguration, and I'd better hurry. You know how McGonagall gets when people are late!!"  
  
"Sure I do!! Meet you at break?"  
  
"Yea – where?"  
  
"Umm – how about at the base of the Astronomy Tower? It's way out of everybody's way, and we can get a bit of peace there."  
  
"It's a date!!"  
  
Draco smiled at Harry, then turned and walked through a side door headed for the dungeons. Harry walked off up the marble staircase to collect his books from his dormitory.  
  
When he reached the portrait hole, Ron and Hermione were just leaving. They started to ask when Harry had dropped back, but as Harry rushed past, he just called,  
  
"Wait up, will you?"  
  
"Well?" asked Ron of Hermione.  
  
"No idea"  
  
"I thought you were spying on him?"  
  
"It's not spying, Ron."  
  
"Whatever – when are you going to start then?"  
  
"I'm not going to go chasing Harry all over the place, Ron. It's his business what he gets up to, and if doesn't want to tell us, then that's fine." This told Ron that Hermione had a plan. At that point Harry returned and they all headed off to Transfiguration together.  
  
When they reached Professor McGonagall's classroom however, they found a sign on the door telling them to proceed immediately to Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom, due to an unavoidable timetable alteration. Hermione was very put out.  
  
"I spent hours finding out about Transmogrification Hexes for her essay," she complained.  
  
At the moment Professor McGonagall opened the door, "I will take everyone's completed essays now, before you proceed to Charms. Those of you who have not completed the essay," she looked a Ron as she spoke, "will receive a one-off extension on the deadline, and will hand it in tomorrow morning at breakfast."  
  
As they rounded the corner together, Ron breathed a loud sigh of relief. "I thought I'd be dead!!" he said, looking around towards Hermione who, from her facial expression, thought that he ought to be dead too.  
  
"You told be you'd done that essay, Ron," she fumed. "All you wanted to do was go along and spy on the Hufflepuff Quidditch training session last night. You'd deserve a detention for unsportsmanlike behaviour anyway!!"  
  
"Thank you, Professor Granger," muttered Ron to Harry.  
  
Upon arrival at the Charms classroom, they discovered that they were being combined with the timetabled Slytherin Charms class. This put Ron and Hermione both in worse moods that before, but when Harry had heard the sound of Draco's voice around the corner as they had reached the top of the stairs, his heart had lightened considerably – he hadn't done the essay either. Hermione rounded the corner first.  
  
"Hello, Granger," came Malfoy's voice, but before he could continue, Harry arrived and caught Draco's eye. The Slytherin subsequently fell silent and Ron, who had been trying to look tough and threatening, felt as if he'd scored a victory. Or at least it seemed to, as Ron frowned and nodded his head at the back of Malfoy's head.  
  
Professor Flitwick then opened the door and allowed his extra large class to enter the room, and as usual, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors sat separately. Flitwick informed the group that they would, today, be revising Summoning Charms, in preparation for a more complex version of the Charm, which involved Summoning immovable objects as a means of transportation.  
  
"This is especially useful in a place, such as Hogwarts, where one cannot Apparate," he squeaked. "Remember the incantation now, Accio, then a one-word description of the object you which to Summon." He then broke out the cushions they had all used when they had first learnt the Summoning charm, and pretty soon cushions were flying an all direction across the room.  
  
As was usually the case when Gryffindor and Slytherin were in classes together, an intense rivalry broke out between the two groups, as they both tried to Summon as many cushions as they could to their side of the room. Frequently cushions tore in half as two people tried to Summon them in different directions at the same time.  
  
"Accio cushion," called Harry. As his target cushion began to move towards Harry, all the cushions which had been Summoned by the people immediately around him, Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and Neville, fell to the ground, and as each one fell, Harry's accelerated finally hitting him so hard that he was knocked back down onto his seat.  
  
Draco caught Harry's eye, and at that moment Harry received Draco's thought about what he wanted to do. They smiled at each other then at the same instant, both Summoned an old, burgundy coloured cushion from Professor Flitwick's desk. The cushion rose off the desk, but instead of buffeting about as the power of the two spells fluctuated, as was the case with every other contest, the cushion flew, smoothly straight down the middle of the room, until it was in the centre of the space. Draco and Harry were then lifted off their feet and both flew at an equally slow speed until they were 4 feet apart, standing face to face, the cushion hovering between them. Every other cushion in the room was also attracted to Harry and Draco's magic. They both lowered their wands, and a huge pile of cushions fell between them with a quiet flump and a large rush if air. Harry and Draco were looking at each other, temporarily unaware of the presence of the rest of the class. Everyone else was watching them too; partly because they had just Summoned every last cushion in the room, including the stack which Professor Flitwick had been sitting on, and partly because tradition suggested that whenever Harry and Draco were this close, violence was to ensue.  
  
However, the two boys quietly regarded each other, until they became aware that everyone was looking at them.  
  
'Oh great,' thought Harry, and Draco returned the smallest of smiles. They then theatrically frowned at each other, and turned away.  
  
Picking himself back up off the floor and scrambling onto the top of his desk, Professor Flitwick squealed, "My boy, that was excellent!! Wherever did you harness so much power?"  
  
Hermione had a shrewd suspicion, which worried her quite considerably. She wasn't worried for Harry or Draco, but for Ron. She didn't say anything.  
  
As Harry walked back to his desk, Draco levitated five or six cushions and had them gently assault Harry, who was quite surprised by the onslaught. Ron was pissed, and sent a copy of a heavy Charms textbook careening at Malfoy's head.  
  
"Accio wands," commanded Harry, willing Draco's and Ron's wands to come to him. As Ron's and Draco's wands left their hands, the cushions fell to the floor and Ron's textbook thudded down on Crabbe's head. What Harry was not expecting was that he would then have to duck as almost thirty wands came flying at him, end on. He crouched down behind his bench and heard them piling into the other side of the wood where they stuck like arrows in an archers' target. Everyone stared, and there was complete silence.   
  
The bell rang and everyone quietly went to find and extricate their wand from Harry's bench. Neither Harry, Ron nor Hermione said a word as they left the room together, but as he reached the door, the thought, "Astronomy Tower, now," entered Harry's head. Draco watched the back of Harry's head nodding as he left walked through the doorway.  
  
As they left the room the three of them were immediately swamped by a mass of first years moving through on their way outside for break. Moving along with the flow, Hermione turned around to ask Harry what he had thought of his spectacle in Charms, only to find he wasn't following. She looked down the corridor to see the back of Harry's bag flash out of side up some stairs at the other end of the corridor. As she and Ron began to head downstairs, she saw Draco emerge from the Charms classroom and also begin to scythe his way, countercurrent, through the first years. 'Right,' thought Hermione.  
  
"Hey, Harry…" Ron stopped, then turned to Hermione. "Where'd he go?"  
  
"I think he said something about some homework to hand in, or needing the bathroom, or something," she rushed, then changed the subject. "what have you got after break, Ron?"  
  
"Herbology, Hermione. With you, as usual on a Tuesday before lunch."  
  
"All right, Ron," said Hermione, trying to laugh, "I just forgot."  
  
"Right, where's my diary?" mocked Ron, "I'd better write that down as a first!!" He smiled at Hermione, who smiled back at her boyfriend, and put her arm around him.  
  
At the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, Harry turned around as he heard the soft footfalls of Draco's expensive shoes on the stairs he had just mounted. They smiled broadly at each other, and came together in an intimate hug. When they broke apart, Draco stepped back and surveyed Harry quizzically.  
  
"So what brought on our little production in Charms, do you reckon?"  
  
"No idea. When we both Summoned that cushion the magic kind of took over, I've no idea why."  
  
"Neither have I, but it was pretty cool. I reckon, if it works again, we could take anyone."  
  
"Anyone?"  
  
Draco thought about what he had said, remembering his father's exultation at the return of the dark Lord, then looked at Harry.  
  
"Why not?" he replied, smiling.  
  
Harry smiled back, and opened the zip of the front pocket of his bag, where he had stowed some snacks. He tossed a Chocolate Frog up to Draco, who caught it deftly. Harry pocketed some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and stood up, unwrapping his own Frog. He looked at the card inside,  
  
"Dumbledore, again," he complained. Draco unscrunched his own Frog box to see which card had been placed in his box.  
  
"Boris, the Bewildered," he stated. "You want it?"  
  
"If you don't. I've got loads, but he's always good to trade with."  
  
"You mean you collect these?"  
  
"Yeah. You don't?"  
  
"Umm, no."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"No point."  
  
Harry pulled the bag of Beans from the pocket of his robes.  
  
"Pff – 'Every Flavour'," scoffed Draco.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not even every flavour Bertie does is in that bag, let alone every flavour."  
  
"Of course not – you'd need a bag the size of the castle to get every flavour."  
  
"No, you misunderstand me. I have a large collection, at home, filling several large sweetie-jars, of every Bertie Bott's flavour I have ever come across. There are several thousand."  
  
"And you think collecting wizards card's is pointless?" asked Harry, incredulously.  
  
"Of course – you can't eat wizard cards!!"  
  
"With the age of 'all the flavours you've ever come across', I'd doubt if you could eat your beans either!!"  
  
"Well, on account of your scathing attitude, you're not going to get to help me eat them. I shall have them all myself."  
  
"Well, then, you can't see my card collection."  
  
They stopped talking and then started laughing at each other and the puerility of their conversation. The bell rang.  
  
"What have you got now?" asked Draco of Harry.  
  
"Herbology, so I'd better run. You?"  
  
"Divination."  
  
"Divination?"  
  
"Yes. Problem?"  
  
"No, it's just I never pictured you as the kind of person who'd have the patience for her airy-fairy lessons and all those made-up predictions she makes."  
  
"Well, I just consider that it is important to know when one is going to die, and how horrifically. You should have heard her going on about you during the Triwizard Tournament two years ago. You apparently should have died several times by now."  
  
"Tell me about it – it was following that that I quit."  
  
Draco started to head off up the corridor towards the base of the Divination Tower, which was opposite the Astronomy Tower at the north of the castle.  
  
"I'm glad you didn't die, though," he said, and lengthened his stride off up the corridor. Harry stood for a moment and watched him walk, then headed off back down the stairs.  
  
Once he had reached the Herbology greenhouses and ascertained which one his class was in this week, Harry entered the lesson, apologizing to Professor Sprout's frown for his lateness. They were working on re-potting magical fungus spores, which was not a particularly challenging task, although copious amounts of dragon dung manure was required. Hermione was the dung collector for the first ten minutes or so, as Ron and Harry talked about Charms. The first thing that Ron has said to Harry as he had walked over to them and dumped his bag by a tottering pile of plant pots had been;  
  
"Whoa – Harry, are you alright? I thought you'd had to go to the hospital wing ro something after what Malfoy did to you with all those wands and your little 'pillow fight'."  
  
"No – I was fine after all that, I just had to go to the bathroom, I drank far too much at breakfast."  
  
"Funny, I didn't see you eat or drink very much at all this morning," contested Hermione.  
  
"Look, Hermione, when nature calls…" said Ron knowingly, in Harry's defence.  
  
"Oh no," said Hermione, as a watering can fell from the bench and dumped water all over the floor, washing over everyone's shoes as a tidal wave of water spread across the floor of the greenhouse. "Ron, could you go and fill that back up for me?"  
  
"Sure," replied Ron, thankful for any diversion from the bore that was re-potting fungus spores. Magical watering cans took a while to fill as they were magically expanded to carry more water, plus the tap was on the other side of the Herbology gardens.  
  
As Ron walked off, Hermione came and stood right next to Harry.  
  
"I know," she whispered to him, almost inaudibly. Harry's stomach jolted a little.  
  
"You know what?" he asked, trying to stop his voice from shaking.  
  
"Where you went at break time. Well, not exactly where you went, but who you went with."  
  
"I went upstairs to the bathroom on the top floor, I figured it was the nearest."  
  
"Harry," said Hermione sounding a little disappointed in Harry, "you know that the nearest ones are those on the third floor, which is a lot nearer to the fourth floor Charms classroom that the seventh floor! You went upstairs because there aren't many people around up there."  
  
"I…" Harry began.  
  
"It's OK, Harry, I just wanted you to know that I know about you and Malfoy." Harry didn't respond to this, although through his silence Hermione was assured that she was right. She put her hand on his arm, "I haven't told Ron – I can help you through this."  
  
"It's not like I'm ill or anything, Hermione," Harry whispered furiously, "just because I lo.., because I like Draco doesn't mean that I'm not all there"  
  
"Like Malfoy?" probed Hermione, "I bet you've been really worried about what we'd all think – especially Ron."  
  
Harry looked into her eyes, tears beginning to well in his own. Hermione was always so sensitive and considerate to everyone else, she always knew what other people wre feeling and could always make them feel better. Harry regarded this as Hermione's greatest quality.  
  
"We'll think of a way," she promised. At that moment Ron returned laden with water.  
  
Term was drawing on, and as the first hint of frost and snowy weather began to arrive at Hogwarts, and an extra trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled for the students to do their Christmas shopping. The villagers always outdid themselves to make the little village look as merry as possible during this time of year, and with holly and fairies strung across the street, large and heavily decorated Christmas trees outside the shops and pubs and the entire picture laden with several inches of snow, Christmas spirit was rife among the students. In the castle itself the Great Hall decorations were second only to Professor Flitwicks own classroom, both of which he was responsible for the decoration of. On the Friday evening before the Hogsmeade trip, as Harry left the Hall with Ron and Hermione, he felt someone's hand enter his pocket. He looked around and saw Draco walking behind him.  
  
"Shh," he said, barely audibly, then walked off towards the dungeons. Ron was talking excitedly about all the places he planned to go the next day, and what he was going to buy.  
  
"I'll need about half an hour to go buy your present, though," he said to Hermione, "because you're not allowed to see it before Christmas"  
  
"Well I'll probably need about as much time to find you something," she said swinging Ron's hand in her own.  
  
As his friends continued to talk as the three of them progressed down the corridor, Harry dug his hands into the pocket of his robes, and found that Draco had deposited a small scrap of parchment in there. He pulled it from his pocket and read the message, written in the script Harry had loved reading every night for the past weeks,  
  
Meet me up by the Shrieking Shack at 11 tomorrow. I want to spend some nice, quality time with you without the risk of people walking in on us. Hope that leaves you enough time for Christmas shopping!! Love, Draco  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows in alarm, as he realised that he had fallen behind Ron and Hermione while reading the message, and that they were now watching him walk up the corridor at his own pace. 'Oh crap,' thought Harry, 'they can't see this.'  
  
"Hurry up, Harry – we'll miss out on the good seats by the fire," called Ron to him, who was partial to having the fire close at hand, so that he could up his batting average for actually getting his homework to land in the fire when he messed up.  
  
"Hold on," he called back, stooping as if to tie his shoelace and hiding the message in the top of his left sock. He stood again, and caught up with his friends. Fortunately, when they reached the common room there was still a small sofa and an armchair left in reasonable proximity to the fire. Ron and Hermione made a beeline for the sofa, while Harry detoured round by the hearth, stooping again and tossing the note into the fire before settling opposite them.  
  
"What was that, Harry," said Ron, seeing the parchment flare in the flames."  
  
"Oh, um, nothing – just a scrap of parchment with something I was supposed to remember."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"And I remembered, so I no longer need the note," he said smartly, smiling at Ron.  
  
Ron leaned over to Hermione, and while looking at Harry, pretended to whisper to her while deliberately talking loudly enough for Harry to hear.  
  
"I think that, with all this time Harry spends away from the common room, and his secret messages, I think that he has a girlfriend in another house." He winked at Harry, then sat back up and continued talking normally.  
  
"So who is it, mate, is Cho Chang hot for you again?" he grinned at Harry, who attempted to grin back. He caught Hermione's eye, she was staring pointedly at Harry who tried to communicate a what can I do to her while not looking too conspicuous.   
  
"What?" asked Ron, "she wasn't that bad!"  
  
Hermione managed to change the subject by asking Ron how much homework he had. The effect was as desired;  
  
"For God's sake, Hermione, it's Friday evening! Can you give it a rest with the homework for just one night a week? Honestly!"  
  
While Ron was ranting, Hermione looked back over to Harry, who shrugged looking as if he did not have a clue what to do about telling Ron, as indeed he did not.  
  
Harry yawned widely, "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, guys."  
  
Harry did go to bed, but he lay there staring at the canopy of his bed, trying to think of a way to tell Ron. Something told him that it would be better to do it sooner rather than later, and that he should just tell him straight, not get anyone else to do it, or do it in writing. He turned over and closed his eyes, having decided to tell Ron, but not having a clue what he was going to say, or when. 'I'll ask Draco,' was his final thought before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
"You went out like a light last night, mate," Ron told him at breakfast the next morning. "Leg hanging out under the hangings and snoring like a foghorn when I came upstairs. I was only 20 minutes behind you."  
  
Harry laughed with Ron, Dean and Seamus, picturing himself lumped across his bed, limbs hanging out. Everyone was excited about the Hogsmeade trip. They happened quite regularly, once every month or two, but the Christmas trip was always the most special. Even though it was the last Saturday of term, the Great Hall was as packed as any school day with people filling themselves for a good days' shopping and general enjoyment.  
  
Once they had finished eating the Gryffindors trooped out of the Hall and back up to the dormitory to wrap up warm and collect their money pouches, before they headed right back downstairs, out of the oak front doors into an extra foot of fresh snow. This now meant that on the route between the front doors and the gate to Hogsmeade, which was untrodden since the last trip, there was three feet of snow, so those in the lead very rapidly got very wet robes.  
  
Ron wanted to go straight to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer to 'get him started', but Hermione wouldn't hear it.  
  
"You've literally just finished breakfast, Ron," she nagged.  
  
"You two sound like an old married couple," laughed Harry.  
  
"Oh, yea? You meeting your mystery other half here today, or is it still a secret?" asked Ron, teasing Harry back. Harry didn't answer, entering the Hogsmeade Outpost of Gringotts bank for some extra gold. The building was a world apart from the magnificent white building in Diagon Alley. This was a shabby, moulding old house with the surliest of goblins at the service desk.  
  
Armed with gold, Harry left the branch and headed off with Ron and Hermione. He looked at his watch; it was now twenty past ten. 'Forty minutes,' he thought to himself. He wanted to spend some time with Ron and Hermione before he used the 'I have to go buy your presents now' excuse, and as this was actually true, it meant that Harry could only realistically spend another twenty minutes, tops, with his friends before he left them.  
  
"Actually, Hermione, I fancy a Butterbeer too."  
  
"Yes - good man, Harry!" cheered Ron. Hermione sighed and walked into the Three Broomsticks in front of the two boys, and ordered three tankards of Butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta. When she returned to the table that Harry and Ron had sat at in the corner of the pub, Ron mimicked her.  
  
"You've only just had your breakfast, Hermione!" he said, winking at her. She pretended to frown, and replied in a forced voice which Harry supposed was supposed to be Ron's.  
  
"Yea, well, I didn't eat much and I need a Butterbeer to get me started up." They grinned at each other, then Ron pulled out a chair for her.  
  
"Why thank you, kind sir," she said, and elegantly sat down beside him. The three of them then sat and talked while they finished their Butterbeers.  
  
"Hey," said Ron suddenly, "Fred and George wrote to tell me that they've managed to rent a unit up here for the Christmas season – said sales have really taken off and they want to take advantage of the Hogwarts Christmas crowd!"  
  
"Oh," said Hermione, genuinely interested, "I was wondering how their sales had been getting on, weren't you, Harry?"  
  
"Yea," Harry lied. As a major financial backer of Fred and George's enterprise Harry had been receiving statements from the pair as they business had taken off, and knew that they had recouped many times what he had gifted to them to kick off their dream.  
  
"I need to go off and buy your guy's presents," said Harry, standing up, "meet you back at school later. I'm not risking you guys seeing your stuff before time!!"  
  
Ron stared at the back of Harry's head as his black-haired friend left the pub, and looked as if he had half a mind to follow him to see where he went. Sensing this, Hermione grabbed is arm.  
  
"Let's go see Fred and George," she suggested enthusiastically. Harry vanished from Ron's mind, he had not seen his twin brothers since the start of school last autumn.  
  
Harry whipped around the shops he had mapped out in his head – he knew exactly what he was going to buy Hermione and Ron, but was trying to make time to decide what to buy for Draco. With a complete, new-season Chudley Cannons Quidditch strip for Ron and a magical mini-library for Hermione, he set off in search of a suitable gift for his boyfriend. Eventually he found something. Having remembered their lengthy discussion about Quidditch after Harry's remedial Potions lesson with Draco, Harry remembered that Draco supported the Chudley Cannons too. He could not imagine Draco doing anything as low-class as sporting a Quidditch strip other than that of Slytherin house, so he bought him bright orange, silk pyjamas with the Cannons' logo on the breast. 


	2. Chapter II

Well here's the second chapter, finally! There's a whole bunch of SLASH (!) through the chapter - hope you like it. Small point, but Word thinks there's about a thousand words more that this site does - so make sure you have time to read, because hopefully you won't want to finish reading until the story runs out!! Enjoy... Logan

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With Draco's Quidditch strip hidden at the bottom of his shopping bag, and his presents for Ron and Hermione piled in on top, Harry was satisfied that Draco would not find his Christmas present ahead of time. 'And if he does show an interest in my shopping, I'm sure I can think of something to distract him with,' he thought, with a smile, suddenly remembering that they could read each others' minds, and hoping that it didn't work long- range. It didn't seem to, Harry's was not aware of any thoughts other than his very own floating across his brain right at that moment.  
  
He was drawing up the hill towards the Shrieking Shack, where he had arranged to meet Draco once they had each finished their shopping. As he neared the top of the incline, the white-blond crown of Draco's head came into view. He was looking the other way, out over the rolling countryside, from the impressive vantage point where few others dared go, for fear of the ghosts they believed haunted the Shack. Feeling Harry's presence, Draco turned and smiled at his partner, who dropped his shopping, carefully, and moved to hug him. They broke apart, both smiling their pleasure in the others company. It had been quite chilly throughout the day but there radiated, about the top of that hill, warmth that had been lacking even in some of the cosier shops. It was still snowing, but even the snow seemed to radiate brightness and warmth, gleaming white, in pristine drifts.  
  
"How're you?" asked Draco. The words gently broke the soft silence of their non-verbal communication; Harry almost did a double take then took a couple of seconds mastering his jaw to fashion a response.  
  
"Good," he managed, "you?"  
  
This all seemed like a formality as they knew exactly how each other was, through their telepathy. Even over longer distances, where thoughts cannot distinctly be heard, each knew generally how the other was feeling.  
  
"Oh!" said Draco suddenly, "you know what happened in Charms last week? I've found that ever since, I've been able to do some pretty awesome tricks!! Watch!" Harry watched, as his boyfriend flicked his wand at the snowdrift to Harry's left, facing away from the village. Right on the edge of the plateau on top of the hill, it looked as though a strong wind was blowing over the snow. It rushed away, then back then round in a spiral, carrying snow with it, until after a couple of seconds it had fashioned a loveseat overlooking the countryside, with a rectangular drift in front, like a coffee table or a footrest. Draco flicked his wand back and forth a couple more times, causing a wooden end-table to appear at either end of the loveseat, and a vast spread of food to appear on the table. Harry looked in awe.  
  
"How did you do that?" he asked, returning his stare to Draco's face. He was smiling.  
  
"I don't know – there's no incantation, but if I think about what I want to happen, the wand will actuate your thoughts when you flick it. It's weird, but kind of cool, especially once you master the flick. See if you can do it!"  
  
"OK," said Harry, uncertainly, and drew his wand from his pocket. He looked around for inspiration then concentrated hard. He flicked his wand at the Shrieking Shack, a back door of which blew open. In the return motion, he caught Draco's crude snow-furniture, which was starting to melt under the heat of the pies Draco had 'made'. Then with a second sweep of the wand, it all moved fast, following the arc of Harry's arm movement, then through the door and inside the Shack.  
  
"Nice!!" said Draco, eminently impressed, then turned to follow the table inside. Harry, walking behind him, smiled and waited for Draco's response. When Draco reached the door, Harry got what he was waiting for.  
  
"Woah – Harry!! That must have been like five things you did in two movements!!"  
  
Harry followed Draco into the Shack, closing the door behind him against the cold, and inspected his work. The snow furniture was nowhere to be seen, but a wooden loveseat, carved lovingly in the same style as Draco's snow-seat and piled high with cushions, was sitting behind a wooden version of Draco's table, in front of a roaring fire. There was also the addition of a couple of Harry's favourites to Draco's already ample spread of food.  
  
"That's amazing," said Harry, taking time out to think about how much power he had harnessed during his little show-off. Neither of them dwelled on the matter though, both being too hungry, despite the fact that it had only been about four hours since breakfast.  
  
When they had finished eating, Draco made the plates and leftovers disappear and the pair sat back in front of the fire, enjoying its warmth. They were holding hands on the loveseat, but sat in serene silence, communicating their enjoyment of a lazy afternoon together telepathically. Occasionally they played little magic tricks on each other, but the pair of them sat for hours together. Eventually, when the fire had burnt low and the sun had disappeared behind the close, winter horizon, Draco sat up and looked into Harry's face.  
  
Harry and Draco stared at each other straight in the eye. The depth was unfathomable, the tension palpable, the intensity of the moment beyond anything either of them had ever experienced. Draco knew what he wanted to say to Harry, this boy for whom, at age sixteen, he felt as if he wanted to spend the rest of this life with. So many thoughts were rushing through both their heads. As they could tell what the other was thinking, or indeed was about to think, they both had a lot of the same thoughts at the same time, the intense magic between them compounding the usual effect of their telepathy to a point beyond any known to most of the rest of wizardkind.  
  
There were so many obstacles and hindrances to be overcome for their relationship to blossom, nothing between either of the two boys, but external difficulties, not least of all, Draco's father Lucius. Just as important to Harry was the reaction of his close friends, especially Ron and Hermione. The three of them had been through so much together. It had always seemed, however corny it may have sounded, like they were the three musketeers or something. The fact that Harry now wanted to include someone new in his life, he feared, could make his relationship with Ron and Hermione seem sidelined. They were no longer the two most important people in Harry's life. This position was now completely filled by Draco. He was dreading having to tell anyone – Hermione already knew, but he was sure that when the time came to tell Ron, he would not be able to accept it, especially as Harry had kept it secret for so long. He knew could rely entirely on Hermione's word that she would not tell anyone, and took some comfort in that.  
  
He had, on several occasions before the previous week, considered confiding in Hermione – he often felt too excited by his relationship with Draco to want to keep it a secret, but it was very hard to say. Plus he had rarely been able to talk Hermione alone since she and Ron had started dating. The pair of them were always very touchy-feely around each other, although Harry doubted that their relationship was anywhere near as 'real' as the his and Draco's. He was sure that Hermione would figure something out, though.  
  
Harry's focus returned to the centre of Draco's beautiful, dark eyes. Harry felt he could happily drown in those eyes. Suddenly, the atmosphere between them changed, Draco drew a long, shaking breath. He held it, then,  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Draco was asking Harry's permission. Harry responded with the very slightest of facial expressions, a slight raising of his eyebrows and a lightening of his eyes indicating his assent.  
  
On the same, held breath,  
  
"I love you, Harry."  
  
Neither of them said anything more, as nothing else needed saying. The atmosphere around them was so electric, so magical, that the still, night air glowed with the energy.  
  
Draco and Harry were lost in each other's entire world, in each other's eyes, thoughts and emotions. It was the first time that either of them had used the word 'love' in the context of their relationship, and neither one of them could think of anything they wanted more than to spend the rest of their lives together, wrapped up in that moment, until the end of time.  
  
They were nose to nose on the sofa, in each other's arms, both burning with desire. The gravity and meaning that Draco's words had brought was so profound that neither of them had the words to begin to describe what they were feeling. Nor did they need to. Each emotion that one boy felt was ringing through the other's head, clear as day. Harry opened his mouth, and he reached around his own back, finding his partner's hands, clasped together at his lower back. He continued to stare through Draco's eyes, into his heart, and spoke straight from his own.  
  
"That's the first time anyone has ever said that to me," he whispered, close to tears. He put his arms back around Draco's back and held him as close as he could without crushing him. Draco inclined his head towards Harry's, rubbing their noses, until their lips met. The touch of Draco's soft, smooth lips was so delicate, so sensual that Harry broke away, silent tears now streaming down his cheeks. He put his head over Draco's shoulder and held Draco's body tightly to his own.  
  
"Don't ever leave me," he wept, "I love you too, more than anything in the world."  
  
"Harry, I promise, I will never, ever let you go."  
  
At the same moment they both leaned in and their lips met again. The touch was more tender then ever, at first, but then the kiss became more passionate and both of them felt more in love than ever before. Draco pulled off and looked at Harry, breathing hard. He leaned in slightly again, and Harry started close his eyes, but then Draco kicked himself back off the seat, landing smartly on the hardwood floor as the seat slid to a halt again.  
  
"If you want another one, you're going to have to catch me," he taunted, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Harry grinned, then sprang after him. They tore around the house, up and down the stairs and through all of the rooms, jumping over dusty furniture they went, laughing uncontrollably at the puerility of what they were doing. Harry drew his wand from his pocket again, and flicked it at Draco, whose feet were pulled from under him. He rotated forward, but then swept across the room before landing, on his back, back on the loveseat. Harry then flung his wand aside and sank down on top of Draco on the seat.  
  
"Got you!" he whispered, smiling, then they kissed again.  
  
Shortly after they had finished kissing, they both decided that it was probably time they went back to school, it was dark after all. Harry got off Draco, who then stood up beside him. Draco flicked his wand at their seat, which vaporized, then swept through the house replacing the shiny stripes where they had been running with an ample layer of dust.  
  
As Draco moved the remaining furniture back to where it was meant to be, shown up by the shiny holes in the dust that the loveseat had left after its sweep of the house, and returned Harry's wand to his back pocket, Harry began to beat the dust off the back of Draco's robes.  
  
"Ooh – I think I quite like you stroking me just there," said Draco, and they both began giggling.  
  
"Are we ready to go, then?" asked Harry, casting his eyes around the room for anything they had left behind, or anything out of place. Satisfied that all was well, Harry slapped Draco where he'd just been stroking him, and strode out of the door.  
  
"Hey!" said Draco, trying to sound annoyed, but loving it. They childish behaviour continued until they were at the top of the slope that led back down to Hogsmeade.  
  
"Umm, we'd better go separately," said Draco glumly, "we can't really be seen together, can we?" Harry was on the point of agreeing with Draco when he remembered something.  
  
"Follow me," he said, suddenly, grabbing Draco's hand and leading him back into the Shrieking Shack.  
  
"Harry, its really late, we really ought to go back. If we both get back too late then people will get ideas!!"  
  
"Just shush for a minute," said Harry, a little impatiently, drawing his wand. He flicked the end of his wand towards the middle of the now darkened room, and waited. Nothing happened. He did it again, and one of the rooms off the living room they were in there was muffled thud of wood on dusty wood. Draco suddenly tensed a little.  
  
"Harry, this place is haunted, you know," he managed, his voice starting to shake a little.  
  
"No its not," said Harry, leading the way into what turned out to be a kind of study, following the sound of the thud.  
  
In the middle of the room there was a large, square, black hole in the floor.  
  
"Follow me," Harry instructed Draco, who was slightly calmed now that he had taken time out from being frightened to read Harry's mind to find out that there was nothing untoward going on. He began to feel a little excited at the proposition of another little adventure. He watched Harry lower himself as far as he could into the hole, then drop out of site. A split second later he heard Harry land safely on the floor of whatever was down the hole.  
  
"Hold on," called Harry, "Lumos." The hole was illuminated by the soft light of Harry's wand.  
  
"Watch out then," called Draco, down the hole. Harry receded into the tunnel a little, so that Draco wouldn't land on top of him, smiling inwardly at the idea that that was not such a bad one. He heard Draco laugh a little, and knew he had picked up in Harry's private joke. A second later, Draco landed beside him. Harry quickly flicked his wand at the trapdoor, and ran a little further into the tunnel. The door swung shut, covering Draco in dust once again.  
  
"Oh, come on," protested Draco, who was otherwise lost for words after Harry's practical joke. Harry turned the light of his wand on Draco, and saw a thick layer of dust on top of Draco's head and shoulders. He enjoyed the sight for a few seconds before Draco dusted himself off with his wand.  
  
"You had to know I was going to do that," laughed Harry as they made their way down the tunnel.  
  
"I felt you thinking about it, but I didn't think you were that mean!!" replied Draco, now laughing himself. "Where is this, anyway?"  
  
"It's a tunnel..." began Harry.  
  
"You're kidding!" Draco interjected.  
  
"Very funny – it's a tunnel that runs between the Shrieking Shack and the base of the Whomping Willow," explained Harry.  
  
"The Whomping Willow," repeated Draco, "the Whomping Willow that almost killed you and Weasley and his car at the beginning of Second Year?"  
  
"The same," replied Harry, remembering the incident Draco described.  
  
"Umm, OK," Draco seemed to be measuring his response, "how the hell do we get past this murderous tree, once it's noticed a couple of juicy Sixth Years appearing?"  
  
"Don't worry," Harry assured Draco, "you know that knot in the trunk?"  
  
"Ahh," said Draco, reading Harry's mind once again. They quickened their pace. At the end of the tunnel, where they could just see moonlight through the moss that covered the outlet of their tunnel, both boys stopped, realising they dilemma. They were both pretty sure that there wasn't much chance that nobody was looking out of any of the hundreds of windows that overlooked the grounds in the direction of the Whomping Willow. While it was dark, and quite late, it was not yet time for dinner, so they didn't have the guarantee that most people would be in the Great Hall eating. Draco had the idea first.  
  
"Good one," said Harry, before Draco had even moved. Harry shuffled as far as he could to one side of the tunnel, allowing Draco to move to the mouth of the tunnel, just behind the moss curtain, and poke the end of his wand through the gap. The scene darkened almost completely as the cloud that Draco had conjured in front of the moon did its job.  
  
"Your job, now," whispered Draco, "time to stop this tree from murdering us!" Harry noticed that Draco still sounded a little nervous about taking on this venerable and short-tempered tree. Harry reached out with one arm, and touched the knot on the trunk with the tip of his wand.  
  
"Nothing's happening," said Harry, a little nervously, jabbing the trunk again, and infuriating the tree further. When he said that, he'd meant that the tree had not stopped thrashing around, as it had begun to do when Draco had shot his cloud in front of the moon.  
  
"Oh God," said Draco. He knew it wasn't immediately life-threatening, as they could simply make their way back down the tunnel and into the Shack, in order to walk all the way back the Hogwarts from the little village, but this could take anything up to an hour. By then it would be too late, and they would both be punished for coming back too late from Hogsmeade – they only had about 15 minutes before the prescribed time by which all students had to have returned from the village.  
  
"Hold on," said Harry, reaching around and touching Draco's shoulder, "we can make the tree stop moving, without using the knot."  
  
"Harry, that tree is one of the most magical objects in the world," said Draco, "we don't stand a chance of stopping it."  
  
"I bet we do," replied Harry, "with our 'think-and-flick' magic!" Harry had turned around and was looking straight into Draco's eyes, which then began to twinkle.  
  
"Alright," he said, his spirit of adventure rekindled, "together, on three." Both boys reached tentatively out through the moss, "one – two – THREE!!" Both boys flicked their wands aimlessly through the moss-curtain, but it immediately had the desired effect – the tree had frozen solid. As the boys emerged, slowly, from between to huge roots of the Willow, they saw that they had not cast any spell at all, but were conducting magic away from it. They could both see a dark green light, the same colour as the Willow's bark, moving from the old tree to the ends of their wands, then leaving them, and flowing back down the tunnel they had just come through. Ignoring their sense of awe at the magic they were controlling, both boys ran out of range of the tree, then lowered their wands.  
  
"Look," exclaimed Draco suddenly, pointing in the direction of Hogsmeade. Harry followed Draco's line of vision, and saw that the Shrieking Shack, usually unnoticeable from Hogwarts, especially on dark nights, had light radiating through cracks in the boarded up windows. As they watched, the light faded from the old house. Then they heard a rushing sound, which filled Harry with fear. He stood, rooted to the spot as dark green light blasted out through the hole that was the end of the tunnel.  
  
The rushing became louder and more terrifying as it swept towards the two boys. The light got brighter and brighter green, advancing rapidly. In seconds it had covered the short distance between the boys and the hole it was coming from, and when it struck the pain both of them experienced was paralysing. Just before it struck, Harry had had a notion of trying to run, and had started to reach out the grab Draco's robes and lead him away, but the searing pain overwhelmed him, and he fell to the floor in agony. He had no idea what was happening, but became aware in some small part of his waning consciousness that was not consumed by terror, that he was leaving his body. Suddenly he was above the scene, looking down upon it. He could see his own body, and, beside it, the limp form of Draco lying motionless in the snow. He also could see a pale mist being ripped from Draco's body, and the tail of his own spirit clinging to his body. The green light suddenly swung away from the two bodies back towards the Whomping Willow. The terrible rushing was now joined by the creaking and squeaking sound that the wood of the tree made as it struggled to resist the incredible force applied to it. Harry could see the Willow bending severely as the light was dissipated on the bark. Then, he fell from his vantage point, heading directly back to his body; when he hit the ground the world faded. As the boys' unconscious bodies lay on the ground, Draco's cloud began to snow gently down upon them.  
  
Draco's eyes snapped open. He found that he was staring at the vaulted ceiling of the hospital wing. As ever, Madam Pomfrey was quick to notice when her charges had come round, and bustled over with potions for him to take.  
  
"Don't know what you two were thinking," she said, to herself more than anyone else, "hanging around that tree in the dead of night with no supervision, no permission to be out when it's dark, and with You Know Who back in power. Take this."  
  
Draco, who had been trying to remember what had happened, and had not been listening, looked up at Madam Pomfrey. "What?"  
  
"The potion, boy, drink it!!" she repeated, holding the goblet to his lips.  
  
"Oh," said Draco, and without even asking what it was or what it was for, drank it all. It tasted foul, and burned as he swallowed it. "Ugh" he spluttered, "what on earth was that?"  
  
"It's to treat your burns," the matron replied, "magical burns all over your face and hands." Draco tried to raise his hand to inspect it, but it caused him a great deal of pain, so he desisted.  
  
Across the room, Harry awoke with a moan of pain. The scar on his forehead was burning, as was the rest of his face and the backs of his hands. He tried to move but he ached so much that he could no longer see the point in doing so. He could tell that Draco was in pain, he could feel it too, and could also tell that he was nearby.  
  
"Dr..." he called, and at that moment Draco gave a very loud moan of pain. Something entered his head, taking up some space that had been occupied by aching: surnames only – and no being nice – there are people here!! Harry opened his eyes and felt, like he had on several occasions in his school career at Hogwarts, the sense of disorientation that comes with awaking in the hospital wing of the school. This gave him the motivation to move, he stretched out his arm to try and locate his glasses. Finding them on his nightstand he put them on, then forced himself to sit up. He felt very tired, and had to concentrate quite hard to keep his eyes open. He saw Draco lying still in a bed on the opposite side of the ward, his face covered in long, narrow burns. Trying as hard as he could to conceal his distress, he looked himself over and found burns of a similar shape to Draco's all over the back of his hands. Madam Pomfrey came over and administered the same potion she had just given Draco to Harry, whose reaction was identical.  
  
"Ugh, what is that stuff?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey just tutted, then stumped off down the ward into her office, closing the door behind her. Scanning the ward to make sure that they were the only people there, Harry called over to Draco.  
  
"You OK?"  
  
"I'm alive – I hurt like hell though. What about you?"  
  
"I'm OK – tired and achy though. These burns sting too, must be the potion."  
  
"What happened?" asked Draco, and Harry noticed that his voice sounded odd – he was obviously trying not to move his face or jaw too much.  
  
"No idea," Harry confessed.  
  
"I remember looking down and seeing us, then falling," said Draco.  
  
"Me too," said Harry. At that moment they both fell silent again, as the door handle rattled and the door to the ward opened. Harry could see that Professor Dumbledore had entered, accompanied by Professors Snape and McGonagall. There was a click at the other end of the ward as Madam Pomfrey close her office door behind her, having re-entered the ward. As Dumbledore made his way down the long ward to speak to her, he saw Harry sitting up, and nodded. Professor McGonagall acknowledged Harry too, but Snape ignored him completely.  
  
"How are they, Poppy," Harry heard Dumbledore ask the matron.  
  
"Mr Potter is just very tired, so he can leave this morning, once he has taken a time-delay sleeping potion," replied Madam Pomfrey, "Mr Malfoy, on the other hand, was rather more badly afflicted and is in some degree of pain, so I expect to discharge him in time for the Leavers' feast on the last day of term."  
  
Harry felt genuinely sorry for Draco. He was concerned about what was wrong with him, and knew that he could not show too much outward interest in it. He also knew that time in the hospital wing passed very slowly, and the prospect of spending three more days in there was one that Harry was happy not to have to face himself.  
  
Now that Madam Pomfrey had finished briefing the three teachers, they pored over first Draco, then Harry, examining the burns and asking yes-or-no questions about the pain they were experiencing. For this reason they spend longer over Draco than Harry, as Harry was in little pain by comparison. When they had finished examining Harry and Professors Snape and McGonagall left, Dumbledore remained behind. Checking that Madam Pomfrey was sufficiently engrossed in her office, he began to speak.  
  
"Listen to me – once you have both been discharged from here, I will need to speak with you both. You will find out what about when we meet again. I am sure you have the means, Mr Malfoy, to let Harry know when you are allowed to leave, so that you can both meet me straight after your, err, release." He smiled briefly, then turned and left.  
  
Harry left the hospital wing shortly after Dumbledore, promising Draco that he would visit if at all possible, or at least come close so that they could 'talk'. Back down in the main school, Harry found it hard to concentrate on his lessons, not only because he was extremely tired, but because people kept congratulating him. Evidently the story that had been circulated was that Harry and Draco had had some kind of duel in which they had both knocked each other out. As Harry had made an appearance back into the daily routine, everybody therefore assumed that Harry had done more damage to Draco than Draco had to him, and Harry found it quite difficult to restrain himself from punching people like Ernie Macmillan, who made it quite clear that they were entirely satisfied with the fact that Draco Malfoy had received what they perceived to be some kind of comeuppance.  
  
"A good thorough walloping was just what the bastard needed. Good on you Harry, old boy," Ernie had said. Greatly riled by Ernie's comment, the only reason that Harry had not hit Ernie was because he had felt the smallest of tugs on the back of his robes and, looking around, had seen Hermione shoot him the briefest of warning looks before continuing her way down the corridor. Harry had followed her, and as they had reached a particularly busy junction of the complicated network of third floor corridors they had been walking along, Hermione had taken Harry aside for a second.  
  
"Be careful, Harry," she had whispered, almost silently. "We can only do so much to cover for you two." Harry could only assume that 'we' were her and Professor Dumbledore, and perhaps the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, if they knew yet. The chances were that they did know, though Dumbledore was known to keep particularly sensitive information secret even from his greatest confidants.  
  
Harry made it through the week without losing his temper publicly with anyone. In private though, in his bed at night, he found it very hard to sleep without knowing how Draco was. He could tell that he was getting better, as elemental emotions had the greatest telepathic 'range'. Having not been able to go visit had been the hardest part for Harry though. He did not dare even to use his invisibility cloak to make his way through the school in the dead of night, because if Madam Pomfrey heard Draco talking to thin air, then she would keep him in for even longer. Also Harry knew that Draco needed rest. On the last Friday of term, though Harry made his way up to his bed after classes had ended, promising Ron that he would meet him and Hermione outside for a snowball fight once he'd had a rest. He was still incredibly tired, but when he reached the dormitory he felt more awake than he had at any point since leaving the hospital wing. As he walked through the door he could see, across the dark room, that there was a golden light shining out around the drawer of his nightstand. Fortunately there was nobody else in the dormitory, for Harry raced across the room and snatched the magical parchment out of the drawer to read the message.  
  
I'm free!! We'd better go see what Dumbledore wanted. I'll meet you on the fifth floor, so we can go up together. Can't wait to see you!  
  
Excited at the prospect of seeing Draco again for the first time in four days, Harry shoved the parchment back into the drawer, and Summoned the Marauder's Map from the trunk at the bottom of his bed.  
  
"I solemnly swear that I'm up no good," Harry announced. With that, the magical map of Hogwarts traced itself out on the old parchment. Scanning it, Harry ascertained which part of the fifth floor Draco was waiting on, then pocketed the map and set off. Five minutes later at the top of a flight of stairs landing on the fifth floor, Harry drew the map back out of his pocket. He could see the dot representing Draco standing just around the corner. He quickly scanned the rest of the map to make sure the coast was clear. Pocketing the map once again, Harry then swept around the corner and took Draco in his arms. Both of them were overjoyed at their reunion, and when they had finished hugging, Harry took a step back from Draco and appraised him for a few moments. He was a little thinner than before, but looked much better, though still tired. He was also back to his good- looking self, now that the burns that had covered his face when they had last seen each other on Monday morning were gone. They smiled at each other, then after a few more moments, Draco suggested that they make their way upstairs.  
  
"Hold on," said Harry, realising that the pair of them walking through the corridors together was probably not a great idea if people were hanging around. He drew the Marauders Map out of his pocket again, and studied it closely. To his immediate surprise he noticed that Filch was about to mount that stairs that Harry had come up moments before. Grabbing Draco's hand, Harry led the way swiftly up the next flight of stairs and around a corner before studying the map yet again, to ensure that they had given Filch the slip. A little out of breath, Draco managed to speak.  
  
"What is that?" he asked.  
  
"Oh," said Harry, and showed it to him.  
  
Draco was as enthralled with it as Harry had been the first time he had seen it.  
  
"Wow," he exclaimed. "Is that dot, me?" He took a few steps in either direction, still within view of the map, and smiled as he saw the corresponding dot on the map, labelled Draco Malfoy, move from side to side. Harry chuckled, then led Draco up to Dumbledore's office.  
  
Confronted with the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry noticed a small flaw in Dumbledore's plan: neither of the boys knew the password. Then remembering that on the first occasion that Harry had ever used the map, it had told him the password to open the passage behind a statue of a hump-backed witch, Harry looked again at the map.  
  
As Draco peered over Harry's shoulder, a minute speech bubble appeared next to the perfect drawing of the gargoyle and within it was written the password, 'Liquorice Stick'. Harry smiled, remembering that Dumbledore liked to use confectionary for his passwords, often choosing Muggle sweets which most wizards were unlikely to have heard of, for added security. As Draco struggled to pronounce the word he had been confronted with, Harry told the gargoyle the password, which made Draco jump slightly when it sprang aside. They stood on the moving stone steps, which transported them up to the door of Dumbledore's office. They both knocked, and waited to be invited in. The door opened.  
  
"Oh!" said Dumbledore, sounding slightly surprised to see them. "I was just thinking about coming to wait outside to let you in. You saved me the journey!!" His eyes twinkled at Harry who stuck his wand in his pocket.  
  
"Mischief managed," he muttered, as Dumbledore turned away to allow them into his room.  
  
"Sit, please." The old man conjured two chairs in front of his desk, then settled in his own throne-like chair on the opposite side. They sat, and Dumbledore steepled his fingers, then looked at the pair of them over the top of his glasses, in his characteristic way.  
  
"My boys," began Dumbledore finally, "what has happened to you two?"  
  
Harry and Draco looked at each other nervously. They were both sure that they were in trouble for the damage they had caused to the Whomping Willow and for being out of school past curfew.  
  
"There's no need to look so worried, I just need to talk to you about the recent discoveries you two have made," he continued, noticing their body language.  
  
"What discovery?" asked Draco, a hint of a sneer in his voice which Harry thought was a little out of character for Draco. Sensing this, Draco revised his question, "I mean – so we're both gay..." It sounded odd, as this was the first time that Harry had heard the word 'gay' used to describe himself. He knew it was right, but had avoided using it thus far in case he had to decide that he wasn't, if Draco wouldn't have him. These complicated thoughts seemed to either have occurred to, or been sensed by, Draco, as he found Harry's hand and gave it a slight squeeze, before glancing back up at the headmaster and dropping it again.  
  
"You have discovered at your young ages, something that many wizards are lucky ever to find, and rarely do. This may sound a bit sensational considering the stage of your relationship, but after your displays since Harry's additional Potions tutoring, my certainty has increased." Dumbledore paused, mid-statement.  
  
"What is it," they asked in quiet unison.  
  
"Love," said Dumbledore gently, "real, strong, true love." He paused a moment for this statement to sink in a little. "You two will never be truly apart for the rest of your existences. Your very souls are entwined and interdependent. Your display on Sunday after your return from Hogsmeade are evidence of that"  
  
"I see teenagers kiss all the time, one only need stroll through the courtyards to see young love at work. However, how many times have you seen flashes of light surround these immature couples?" asked Dumbledore. "The power that surrounds the pair of you is immense. With the emotional intensity of that single moment, and the tension which built before it, cause large magical instabilities as they do so. In that instant, that flash of light, the pair of you harnessed more power than most other living wizards, unifying your discrete magic, that the full power of it may be available to both of you. The power of this magic is sufficient to affect and harness the magic of other wizards and magical objects around you, making the pair of you immensely powerful. I have never seen this happen to anyone in this school before, nor heard of it happening to anyone your age. There are very few couples like you in existence. Upsetting this magic will destroy both of you."  
  
This long speech sounded a lot like a warning. It also sounded like they weren't necessarily going to be together because they loved each other – but because they would not be able to exist otherwise. Dumbledore saw the looks on their faces.  
  
"Fear not boys, as this is not the primitive magic such as most of that taught within these old walls; these bonds do not form if there is even the slightest chance of breakage – your love will grow stronger even than your magic – you will be able to harness and control enormous power. The power you do possess would appear to be quite prodigious, and I severely doubt you have come anywhere near fulfilling your magical potential. This, my boys, is very exciting!!"  
  
Still neither Harry nor Draco could think of anything to say.  
  
"I suppose you're wondering what happened to you on Sunday?" Dumbledore asked. Still failing to speak, both boys nodded. Dumbledore sat back in his chair, and steepled his fingers once again, considering his explanation.  
  
"The Whomping Willow, as I'm sure you're both aware, is an extremely magical object. It was placed here at Hogwarts for a very specific reason."  
  
Harry, who knew that the Whomping Willow had been planted over the end of the tunnel to stop unsuspecting students from coming across Remus Lupin during a full moon, started to speak. Dumbledore did not look annoyed at the interruption, he merely raised his hand, and answered Harry's unuttered question.  
  
"There are many other species of plant we could have used to stop people from reaching the Shrieking Shack, Harry. The reason the Ministry chose this particular one was because it had just come into their possession after the raid of a Dark household, and they needed somewhere more secure than the Ministry of Magic buildings to keep it in, so at Hogwarts, it could serve a dual purpose."  
  
Dumbledore did not seem to be in any particular hurry to get to the point of his story. He already knew this story, not from Harry, but from his father, who had told him all about it when Lupin had been appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, three years previously.  
  
"What other purpose did it serve, then?" asked Draco, eager to get to the point, though sounding a little impatient too.  
  
"Well," said Dumbledore feeling also that he had finally reached the interesting part of his story. "The green light you conducted away from the tree when you tried to freeze it, the intensity of it when it came back from the Shack, the rushing sound it made, did it remind you of anything?"  
  
Harry didn't have to think long to arrive at his answer. As the sense of dawning appeared on their faces, Dumbledore continued before the boys responded.  
  
"The Spirit of Death, the very substance of the Avada Kedavra killing curse. When it rushed back out of that tunnel, in enormous supply, the simple reason that you two weren't killed instantly was because you were in such an immensely powerful position. That alone would not have saved you though. As the source of the power, the tree attracted it back and bore the brunt for you, and was almost killed in the process. The burns you received were from the leaves of the tree, every single one of which was stripped by the power of the magic. This," he paused, "is why Voldemort," Draco flinched, "was almost killed by his own curse. That spell could have rebounded upon anyone else in that room, but as he was so powerful, he attracted the magic back toward himself. This is the reason your potential power of your combined magic is potentially lethal to the two of you, so you must be very careful how you use it. I would strongly recommend that you leave your clairvoyant conjuring well alone, until your relationship has matured, magically, else you could easily become consumed by the power."  
  
Something was beginning to dawn on Harry, but before he had this thoughts in order, Draco voiced them for him, "So I guess with all this power that Harry and I seem to have, we're going to be kind of useful in fighting the Dark Side, now that You-Know Who has returned."  
  
Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Instead he turned to Harry.  
  
"Harry, is it acceptable to you to discuss the occurrences at the end of last year with Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"Anything concerning me, Draco is entitled to hear," replied Harry, looking straight into Dumbledore's blue eyes. During the summer he had had time to think about what Dumbledore had done, and his reasoning, and had written him an apology following his behaviour and destruction of property following his return from the Ministry of Magic. His trust in the old man was reformed entirely.  
  
"Would you like to tell the story, or shall I, Harry?" asked Dumbledore gently. As Harry recalled the events, ranging from fighting Death Eaters to the death of his last remaining shred of magical family when Sirius had fallen through the archway, his eyes began to fill. He felt that he didn't want to speak, so shook his head and pointed at Dumbledore, indicating that Dumbledore should continue.  
  
"Towards the end of term last year, Harry and some of his friends found themselves in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic in London," he began, focussing entirely on Malfoy. "In the Room of Prophecy, Harry discovered that there is a prophecy linking him and Voldemort. The Ministry record of the prophecy was destroyed in the struggle between Harry and his friends and the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. However, I have stored the memory in a much more secure place."  
  
Dumbledore turned around to get something out of the cupboard. Harry knew what was coming. Dumbledore placed his Pensieve on his desk, then turned the heavy, stone bowl round so that it faced the two boys, then reached around the back plate and stirred the silvery contents with his wand. As it had at the end of the previous year, the mist rose from the bowl and formed itself into a likeness of Professor Trelawney, and a harsh voice filled the room. Harry closed his eyes as he remembered how he had been feeling the last time he heard these words.  
  
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."  
  
The misty face receded into the depths of the bowl. Dumbledore replaced the Pensieve in its cupboard, then returned to his seat and surveyed the two boys over the top of his half-moon glasses, then continued his tale, as though he had merely paused for breath.  
  
"When Voldemort attacked and tried to kill Harry that night, when he failed, he unwittingly transferred power to Harry. Power which had kept him alive through subsequent attacks, power denoted by the scar on his forehead, and power which enabled him to duel with Voldemort during the final of the Triwizard Tournament two years ago as many mature wizards would have died attempting. The additional power which 'the Dark Lord knows not' is the power of his mother's blood, for she sacrificed herself to Voldemort to stop him killing Harry. This is ancient magic which was only sealed by Harry living with a blood-relative of that devoted woman. There is now, of course, another power which he knows not."  
  
He paused and looked at the boys, apparently to see if they had any questions, which they did not.  
  
"This brings me on nicely to a point I needed to talk to you about anyway, Harry, regardless of more recent developments."  
  
Harry looked up from the floor he had been staring at during Dumbledore's story, into the great man's eyes.  
  
"I think you should go home for Christmas," he stated. Harry's eyes widened in horror. "I know you hate it there, but I think in the current state of affairs, with Voldemort returned to power, that you be somewhere he cannot possibly touch you."  
  
"But Hogwarts is very secure," said Harry, not in the least bit wanting to spend any more time than he absolutely had to with the Dursleys.  
  
"I know Hogwarts is very secure, Harry," said Dumbledore, replying calmly to Harry's unfinished question, "but because of the magic I described to you last year, your aunt and uncle's house is completely secure. However unlikely it may be, Hogwarts defences can be overcome by the most powerful of wizards and those we are dealing with are certainly some of them. I feel it necessary to 'top-up' the defence that your sister's family can afford you, especially after your ordeal. The power of that tree almost killed you. The mist you could see clinging to your bodies was your very spirit; if it had not managed to keep a hold on your body, you would have died."  
  
There were a few seconds of silence, but now it was Draco felt it was his turn to defend Harry.  
  
"You said that if we're apart we'll both be destroyed," he said, his voice shaking as he spoke, as he realised the full scope of what Dumbledore had been telling them, "you said that we can never be truly apart, so you can't send Harry away from me." Dumbledore smiled, then addressed his response directly to Draco.  
  
"This would not count as 'proper' separation, if you will," began Dumbledore, "however, having anticipated your response, I have, err, arranged with Harry's family that you may accompany him over the Christmas holidays." Draco went paler than usual, and when he eventually began to speak, his voice was deadpan.  
  
"My father will never go for that," he whispered. He looked the most scared Harry had ever seen anyone. "He'll want to know where I am, he'll want to know what I'm doing, who I'm with, he'll make me come home. And he'll," he looked to his right at Harry, who was watching him with emotion rising in his chest and tears rising in his eyes at Draco's eminent vulnerability, "he'll find out about us." He reached out and took Harry's hand. Dumbledore, who also seemed quite moved by what Draco had been saying, was watching the two boys in front of him and considering his response to the predicament that now faced him. But he did not have time to respond before the door burst open.  
  
Lucius Malfoy stormed into the room, snow flying off his cloak and slush splattering off his boots, and he was furious. He was also quite taken aback by the scene that greeted him as he stared at Dumbledore. Draco tried quickly to inconspicuously drop Harry's hand, but Lucius' face was already contorted, and his hand was moving quickly to the inside of his cloak.  
  
"What is going on here," he demanded, starting straight at Dumbledore again. "What are these two doing in here, or is it just that Potter has been cheating at Quidditch again?" He appeared extremely deranged. "Draco – why didn't you respond to my owls? I've been sending them repeatedly over the last twenty minutes to no avail. I knew something must be going on. Well, Dumbledore I'm waiting for an explanation. I've been hearing things about duelling – I hope Potter is here to receive due punishment!"  
  
"Although the Headmaster is answerable to the parents of all the students of this school, he is not obliged to submit to invasions of his private offices Lucius. As you were relieved of you post as a parent-governor a considerable time ago, you are no longer entitled to enter the Hogwarts grounds. Please leave, I will be happy to respond to any communication you may send, provided it is through the correct channels." Dumbledore was not standing, and although his voice was calm, his eyes were blazing as they always did when he was angry. Without breaking Lucius' stare, he raised his wand and opened the door of the office.  
  
Lucius was fuming. His wand now firmly in his hand, he pointed it at Draco. "Get outside, boy, we need to talk." Draco, who was shaking violently, remained seated. His father's lips curled, then opened as he uttered the curse.  
  
"Imperio!"  
  
As a blue light began to erupt from Lucius' wand, Dumbledore shot a silver shield, similar to the one Voldemort had used in the Ministry of Magic the year before. As the jet of silver came between the boys and began to form a shield between them and Malfoy's curse, the two boys simultaneously cried, "Stupefy!". There was a horrific roaring, sheering sound and two jets of red light emanated from the boys' wands, as at the same time the magic from Lucius' and Dumbledore's wands faltered. The Stunning spells united before they struck, and when they did, Lucius Malfoy was lifted clear off his feet and hurled against the stone all of the office with incredible force. The three conscious occupants of the office stared in awe at the power of the spells that had been cast, as blood began to flow freely round Lucius neck, from the sizeable cut on the back of his head.  
  
Still evidently furious, though calmer than he had been, Dumbledore strode to the fire and cast Floo powder into flames that he conjured as he walked. He summoned Madam Pomfrey who stepped out of the fireplace and got to work stemming the flow of blood from the man's head. Meanwhile, Dumbledore summoned a small group of house elves from the kitchens to remove the limp form of Draco's father. As the last elf left the room with his burden, Dumbledore reached out and touched it on the shoulder.  
  
"Take him to the edge of the grounds, and revive him."  
  
"Yes, sir, yes," replied the elf. Dumbledore shut the door behind the procession of elves.  
  
"Thank you, Poppy," said Dumbledore. While he had not said so explicitly, he was obviously asking her to leave. She looked at him, and nodded once on her way out of the office.  
  
"Well, my boys," he said, calm and serene once again, "that was a rather extreme and unforeseen way to deal with one of our problems," he looked at Harry, and then to Draco.  
  
"I don't think in the current circumstances, following your father's behaviour, that we could let you go home, that'll be our excuse should we need one. You will be spending Christmas with Harry in Surrey, with his aunt and uncle.  
  
"I have arranged, for the duration of your stay in Privet Drive, as a trial period, in light of the heightened state of danger for the pair of you, and partly as recompense on the part of the Ministry for the inconvenience they caused you when you were barred from playing Quidditch last year," he said, turning briefly to Harry, "for you both to be permitted to use magic, with reasonable respect for secrecy, while in the home of Mr and Mrs Vernon Dursley. You must not use magic in front of anybody except your family, Harry, that is very important. Although Voldemort cannot find out exactly where you are, if there are reports of magical activity in that neighbourhood, it could make it very difficult for us to get you back out of there alive, because as soon as you leave the house he can see you.  
  
"Now, the pair of you will have exclusive use of an invisible, additional compartment on the Hogwarts Express, so that we can keep this from the rest of the school for as long as we can, until you feel you can deal with any social consequences there may be. That part you may do in your own time. Beware, of course, that due to the nature of the reputation of both your families, now that there is knowledge of your relationship outside of the School, it may not be long until it is common knowledge – I would not like to see your respective existing relationships suffer as a result of this. However, on this point I may only advise you, as it is not my place to say how you must handle your private affairs.  
  
"It is necessary at this point for you, Draco, to be made aware of a long- standing and very secret group of wizards who are the forefront of the non- Ministry resistance to the forces of evil. The Order of the Phoenix is a group of witches and wizards, headed by me, who will work to protect you and Harry as much as it is possible to do so. One element of his will be to teach you skills way beyond the scope of any qualification available ordinarily at this school. A number of teachers here are members of the Order, including Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, in addition to myself. Additional members of the Order will visit the school to share with you specialist knowledge in their particular fields of expertise, including one person you already know, Draco, and one that you may have thought you did. I speak of Professors Moody and Lupin, both of whom will be instructing you in advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts. Some training will take place over the holidays at the headquarters in Grimmauld Place."  
  
Dumbledore now pushed his chair back from the desk a little, so he could comfortably open the drawer in front of him. He produced two purple, gold- embellished tickets.  
  
"Your ride home," he said, presenting the tickets to the boys, "have a very merry Christmas, I'll be seeing you soon."  
  
The old man turned around and began stowing his Pensieve a little more securely. The two boys bade Dumbledore a merry Christmas also, turned and left the office. Once at the bottom of the stairs, as the gargoyle slid back into place, Draco hung himself around Harry's neck.  
  
"I love you Harry, so much. I don't want ever to go home, I want to be with you forever."  
  
"Good," said Harry, smiling at Draco now that he had let go, "'cos you're stuck with me forever anyway!!" He turned smartly and began to walk off. Harry looked behind him as he walked, "Use your parchment at, say, nine tonight, we'll arrange where to meet to go home."  
  
"Right," called Draco, staring at Harry's behind as he walked away. He drew his wand, and caused a gust of wind to blow Harry's robes up in the air, then giggled as he watched Harry try as hard as he could to hold them down.  
  
"Very droll, Draco," called Harry as he started down the stairs, his face bright red, and his heart in his throat. Draco chuckled all the way back to his dormitory, feeling lighter than air at the prospect of Christmas with Harry.  
  
Back in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry had just told Hermione and Ron about Dumbledore's last-minute plan to send him to Privet Drive for Christmas, feigning exasperation, but feeling extremely excited at the idea. Ron was outraged.  
  
"He wants you to have to waste Christmas with Muggles?" he cried, incredulously. "I'll get Mum to talk to him, get him to let you come to ours."  
  
"Dumbledore says that Privet Drive is really, really safe though," said Harry, in a resigned tone.  
  
"But, Christmas won't be the same without you," said Ron, now sounding more upset than annoyed. This comment touched Harry, and he felt at the same time, a rush of warmth towards Ron, and the sense that perhaps he was sidelining Ron and Hermione for Draco. He felt better though, when he realised the Dumbledore was making him go home anyway, and there was no chance that the Dursleys would take three teenage wizards, so he quelled his initial feeling of guilt by telling himself that Draco's company was better than none. As he lay in bed that night, he felt that it was much better than none!  
  
At nine, as agreed, Harry drew his magical parchment from his nightstand, and set it upon his lap, drawing the hangings of his four-poster with his wand, to ensure privacy. When he looked at it, he saw that there was already a message waiting on it, and with a pang of horror, he did not recognise the script as Draco's. He read the message at light-speed, then relaxed slightly, as the message which read:  
  
Would you please return to my office tomorrow, as I have a better way for you to get onto the Hogwarts Express than by using the platform. Leave your luggage in your dormitories, I have arranged for them to be collected. My compliments to whichever of you enchanted your parchment, very impressive indeed. Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Harry then remembered that, as he would be leaving tomorrow morning, he needed to give Ron and Hermione their Christmas presents before he left. Having not wrapped them, he figured that a little simple conjuring could not hurt that much, so he waved his wand over the gifts, and they were instantly concealed in beautiful wrapping paper depicting very cosy Christmas images. Smiling, he scooped them up and ran back downstairs, eager to enjoy his last few hours he could spend with Ron and Hermione that year.  
  
Both of them were extremely pleased with their presents. Ron had been rather overwhelmed when he had unwrapped his Cannons strip, and had immediately run off upstairs to the dormitory with it. Hermione laughed, then Harry presented her with her gift. She was very impressed with it, as not only did it shrink all of the books down to fit in a tiny space, it made them all weightless too, so she would not have to heave seemingly tons and tons of books around school, as she still took more subjects than most other people, even though she didn't require her Time Turner in order to attend all of her lessons. Smiling, she leaned over and kissed Harry on his cheek, just as Ron came charging out of the bottom of the stairs from the dormitory.  
  
"Oy, Harry – don't be stealing my girl!!" he called, as he ran across the room dressed from head to toe in orange – he was also wearing the hat Harry had bought him several Christmases ago which, surprisingly, still fitted him. Harry and Hermione laughed endlessly at Ron as he ran about with one arm stretched out in front of him. Eventually, glowing red from exhaustion and embarrassment, Ron sat down again, between Harry and Hermione, putting an arm around each of them.  
  
"My two favourite people," he announced, sitting back and pulling them both back with him. Harry knew that the parade had been Ron's way of showing Harry how much he liked his present. Ron was always very shy about expressing his emotions.  
  
"Oh!" said Ron, once he had caught his breath back, "hold on, Harry." Ron turned to look at Hermione, who nodded. With that, Ron charged off again, arousing another loud cheer from the Cannons' supporters across the Common Room. In about a minute he was back, with a large, merrily wrapped present.  
  
"Merry Christmas!," said Ron happily, as the present landed in Harry's lap. "From Hermione and me," he added, sitting down next to her and placing his arm around Hermione's neck. They both smiled at they watched Harry opening his gift. He tore at the paper for a few seconds, then out fell a large, leather-bound book with beautifully gilt pages. The gold lettering on the front of the book pronounced its title: Avantgarde Conjuring – A Sorcerer's Guide, by Merlin Beck.  
  
"I haven't managed to get it open yet, Harry," Hermione admitted, "I've tried every spell I could think of to get it open, but I guess you'll have to try yourself."  
  
"Hermione thought it'd be educational for you or something, Harry, which isn't the point of Christmas, is it? So I got you these too," said Ron, handing Harry a smaller parcel. Harry opened this too, and found a large bag of Fred and George's very best, prototype firecrackers. Grinning, Harry looked up at Ron and thanked him.  
  
"Only thing is though, there's terms and conditions attached," Ron mentioned, "you have to write to Fred and George to tell them how they are."  
  
"No problem, Ron," chuckled Harry, arranging the book and the firecrackers on the seat next to him.  
  
"Wait," said Hermione, who had seen that Harry was about to carry all his things upstairs. "In order to prove Ron wrong, because he thinks I'm still too boring to do Christmas properly, I got you each something." She presented Ron and Harry with identical parcels, then sat back. "Open them, then!" she pressed.  
  
The two boys, looking at each other, ripped open the paper on Hermione's parcels, and both let out exclaims of delight at what they found. Hermione had bought each of them a large Official Chocolate Frog Card Organizer, which consisted of lots of pages of magical pockets, one for each Frog card. The great part was that every time a new card was released, the folder added a page for each new card. The boys were very impressed.  
  
"You know, I don't actually remember saying that you were too boring for Christmas," he joked Hermione.  
  
"I think this is possibly the first time that Ron has ever been pleased that you've proven him wrong!!" Harry added. Hermione smiled at Harry's sentiment, then Ron tried to kiss her. Laughing, Harry picked himself and his presents up, and turned to leave the common room, to pack his things for the next day's journey.  
  
"See you, guys," said Harry, before he went upstairs, "I guess I'll not see you in the morning."  
  
"You'll see us at breakfast," Ron told Harry, "we've decided to get up quite early, haven't we?" he turned to Hermione for corroboration.  
  
"Yes," Hermione agreed, briefly, looking at Ron warningly. Seeing Harry's questioning look at Hermione's expression, Ron took the liberty of explaining to Harry what Hermione was on about.  
  
"Then we're going to take advantage of the fact that Hermione's is the only person in her dormitory who's staying for Christmas, if you know what I mean," he said.  
  
"I don't want to know," said Harry, trying not to laugh at the expression on Hermione's face. "See you in the morning, then."  
  
Harry hardly slept that night. He was too excited by the prospect of having Draco entirely to himself for the next two weeks, but at the same time, worried about how the Dursleys would react to having wizards in their midst. He was sure that none of them would stand for it, though he was equally sure that he and Draco could have a lot of fun with Dudley. Though Dudley was bigger, probably, than Draco and Harry combined, Harry was sure that they would have no trouble at all from him, as Dudley was terrified of magic. He eventually fell asleep smiling, and looking forward to the next two weeks.  
  
The following morning, breakfast was chaotic. There were people all over saying goodbye to friends, and running upstairs to fetch Christmas presents they'd forgotten to distribute before heading home for the holidays. Students who were staying on for Christmas, generally, slept in and breakfasted late on this day every year, to avoid the clamour. As promised however, Ron and Hermione were present, though Harry was given the distinct impression, judging from the redness of their eyes, that he hadn't been followed that closely to bed the previous night. The late evening was the preserve of the lovebirds in the Gryffindor common room, territory into which Harry was yet to step. Harry was just on the point of forgetting that he had a train to catch when he saw Draco leaving the hall, glancing in his direction several times. Harry didn't have to disengage from Ron and Hermione in any way to reply, of course, though Draco did nod his acknowledgement that Harry would be there in five minutes. Neither of them, still, had quite gotten used to telepathy as a means of communication, though its potential merits were becoming very clear, especially in terms of keeping their relationship secret from the rest of the school. If anyone was ever to see the pair of them speaking civilly it would be all over school in five minutes flat, even without telepathy, because it was something that just never happened.  
  
Hermione produced a pile of food boxes, and started putting food into them for Harry for his journey.  
  
"You can't live off Chocolate Frogs all the way back to London, Harry," she said as she filled the boxes and sealed them so that they would stay warm and wouldn't leak.  
  
"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, and meant it – he didn't plan to eat it on the train at all, but if Aunt Petunia decided to starve him, as she had done in the past, he planned to use them to stay alive over the two weeks' Christmas holiday.  
  
Harry stood up, and gathered the boxes Hermione had filled for him. Ron and Hermione also stood up, looking a little upset that he was leaving.  
  
"I'll see you in two weeks – it's not that long," he promised them, even while feeling that it would seem a lot longer than it sounded, though they would all have other distractions. Hermione hugged Harry, and they kissed each other on the cheek, then there was an uncomfortable moment as Ron and Harry didn't know what to do. They settled on a high-five, then as Harry bade them farewell and left with his boxes of food, Ron clapped him on the back, saying "See you, mate."  
  
Harry turned and tried to wave whilst balancing the boxes on one hand, and almost failing, drawing a short laugh from Ron and Hermione and a few others who were watching Harry leave.  
  
Harry was halfway out of the dormitory when he realised that Draco had never had to dress and a Muggle before. Shit, he thought as he dug right to the bottom of his trunk and produced a spare pair of jeans, a T shirt and a jumper for his boyfriend to wear in Privet Drive. Harry spared a moment to think about how Draco would react to having to stoop so low, though perhaps his attitude towards Muggles wasn't as extremist, in reality, as he had always made it seem around his Slytherin peers. Five minutes later, with Draco's change of clothes in his rucksack along with the rest of the stuff that he thought he might need over the holidays, which included Fred and George's firecrackers, Harry arrived outside the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office, for the second time in as many days, to find Draco sitting with his back against the wall opposite, shouting names of sweets at it, in an attempt to get it to open. Draco's attempts included a couple of valiant attempts at mimicking what he thought might be the names of Muggle sweets, but to no avail. Harry gave him a questioning look as he approached.  
  
"Password's changed," Draco announced.  
  
"Oh," said Harry, who then swung his bag off his back and dug out the Marauder's Map to find out what the new password was. After a few seconds waiting for the speech bubble to appear next to the gargoyle on the map, Harry laughed softly.  
  
"It hasn't changed at all," he spluttered, "it would appear that you just can't say it properly." Draco looked a little affronted at this, and a pink tinge came over his white face.  
  
"Go on," said Harry, "try and say it. This ought to be good!!" While Harry grinned at him, Draco attempted to utter the password.  
  
"Liquorshticks," said Draco, trying his best to ignore Harry, to the gargoyle, which remained completely still. Harry's laughing redoubled for a moment, then he explained that 'liquorice sticks' was two words.  
  
"You ought to be OK with it," Harry said, "you can say Liquorice Wand OK, can't you?"  
  
"Yea," said Draco, openly embarrassed, "but you can never tell with Muggles!" Harry laughed appreciatively, then demonstrated how to say the password correctly.  
  
As they reached the top of the stairs, the door to Dumbledore's office swung open. Dumbledore was inside, tracing out the shape of a doorway on what was pretty much the only piece of wall that was not adorned with some portrait or other. A wooden door appeared in the door before Dumbledore turned around and welcomed them to his office.  
  
"Morning," he said, cheerily.  
  
"Morning, Professor," they both chanted in reply.  
  
"Well, I have to say that wasn't voiced yesterday so, if you've no further questions, I see no reason to delay your departure any further." Harry and Draco looked at each other, neither of them having thought of any other questions for Dumbledore over the last twelve hours. Seeing this, Dumbledore turned back round and opened the door. Behind the door was a candlelit, wood-panelled corridor.  
  
"Just walk through the doorway and follow the corridor, boys. It will take you straight to your compartment. Merry Christmas," he said, his eyes twinkling.  
  
"Merry Christmas, sir," they each said as they stepped across the threshold.  
  
Following the corridor was not a problem, as the instant each of the boys stepped through the portal they were sucked down it, and deposited in large armchairs, much more comfortable than the usual Hogwarts Express fare, which was not altogether unacceptable in itself. Settling into their new surroundings, both of them found that their luggage had been efficiently stowed in the racking by the doorway. There were also, on a small coffee table, a couple of pitchers of pumpkin juice, and a wide range of wizards' confectionary. Harry also found a packet of liquorice sticks, which set him off laughing again as he tossed them over to Draco, who threw them back rather hard. The whole compartment was arranged like a comfortable living room, with large, comfortable armchairs, and cosy, wood-panelled walls. There was also a large, ornate chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling which, Harry noticed, stayed perfectly still regardless of the motion of the train.  
  
About halfway through the journey to King's Cross, Harry remembered that they would have to change before they got to Platform Nine-And-Three- Quarters, because otherwise the porter would not allow them passage through the wall into the Muggle station beyond. Having arrived at the platform by Floo powder every time he had travelled through, Draco was unfamiliar with the process. Having assured him it was painless, Harry then set about the task of convincing his boyfriend to wear the jeans and T shirt he had brought. When Draco eventually presented himself, in the Muggle clothes, to Harry, he was not impressed. Usually seen either in his school robes, or else swathed in silk or velvet, Draco complained that the material of the jeans was too hard, and complained for a good fifteen minutes about how stupid Muggles must be to settle for such harsh garments.  
  
"I'll show your family real clothes," he promised Harry.  
  
The only way that Harry could get Draco to wear the jeans was by promising him that he would only have to wear them through that station and on the way back to the Dursley's house. Then, he said, Draco could wear whatever he liked, if he felt he could take the inevitable stick he would get from the Dursleys for doing so. Then Harry had to play-fight Draco into wearing the jumper, which only culminated in copious amounts of kissing. Giving up, Harry settled down next to Draco on one of the armchairs, both of them squashed in, but neither complaining about the lack of space or proximity to one another. They sat like that, eating the sweets that had been laid out, and kissing periodically, until the train pulled into King's Cross station in London.  
  
As the train stopped, Harry stood up and went to pick up his trunk. He took the handle and tugged on it. The trunk almost hit the ceiling as Harry discovered that whoever had loaded it onto the train had bewitched it to make it feather-light. Draco, who was struggling to stand on his dead leg that Harry had been sat on for the past couple of hours, laughed as Harry dodged the trunk before it landed on top of him. They were then presented with the problem of how to get out. Unlike every compartment that either of them had ever travelled in on the Hogwarts Express, this one did not have a sliding door at one end for them to leave through. In fact, as Harry looked, there was no doorway at all – all four walls were entirely wood- panelled. Then, they both noticed a space, like that in Dumbledore's office, where there were no pictures or wall hangings. In this space, as they watched, appeared a silver coloured, metal door. Harry took hold of the door-handle and opened the door, revealing a cream leather-lined wall, and a light carpet floor. Realising what he had to do, he took hold of his trunk and stepped through, moments later finding himself sat in the back of Uncle Vernon's new company car, with identical carpet and leather to the interior of the tunnel. His trunk, he noticed, had vanished from his hand. Moments later, Draco appeared in the seat next to him, and the car squatted slightly as Draco's trunk landed, weight fully restored, in the boot of the car.  
  
Looking forward, Harry noticed that Uncle Vernon was not sat in the driver's seat. Aunt Petunia had made perhaps her first solo road-trip since she had married Vernon Dursley. At that moment, Petunia turned around to look at Harry, who was utterly stunned to find that she looked pleased to see him.  
  
"Hello, Harry, my darling," she cooed, exhibiting such a change in personality since the previous autumn that Harry was lost for words. She turned around further, so that she could look at Draco, who was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver's.  
  
"And you must be Draco," she continued, "lovely to meet you." Turning back, she smiled widely at Harry, before setting off. There was silence in the car for much of the journey, the boys preferring to communicate non- verbally, as was their wont, and Aunt Petunia concentrating on not getting lost on the route back to Surrey.  
  
I thought the Muggles were insufferably unkind, not sickly sweet, Draco told Harry.  
  
They are, usually, I don't know what's going on. She's probably got some horrible 'surprise' planned for us later.  
  
I like surprises!!  
  
Harry was very wary of Aunt Petunia's strange mood for the whole journey, and made sure that his wand was within easy reach as they finally pulled up to the house at Number Four, Privet Drive.  
  
"We're back," called Aunt Petunia gaily, in to what sounded like an entirely empty house. Draco looked around the walls, quietly inspecting his new surroundings, when they all heard a creak upstairs. Harry suspected, quite correctly, that the sound had been Dudley attempting to sneak around unheard, but his exceedingly amply proportions made it impossible for him to do so.  
  
"Duddykins, Mummy's home," she called. Draco caught Harry's eye, and glanced at Dudley who had decided finally to come downstairs. Harry got the idea and grinned back.  
  
"This is Draco," said Aunt Petunia, to Dudley. "He's Harry's friend, who will be joining us for Christmas, won't it be merry?" Draco, looking cold and impassive, much as he had before Harry had gotten to know him better, held out his hand, holding it dead still, not trembling even minutely, until Dudley shook it very briefly, before very quickly dropping it again. Aunt Petunia then ushered Draco into the kitchen and as Harry followed Dudley, he saw his fat cousin wiping his hand hard on the back of his trouser leg.  
  
So far, Draco had not spoken since they had gotten off the train, and when he did open his mouth to ask Dudley to pass the sugar for the coffee which Aunt Petunia was dishing out, Dudley flinched visibly. Draco's voice was quiet, soft and direct, but polite.  
  
"Could you pass the sugar, please, Dudley is it?"  
  
Dudley nodded in a slightly panicked way, and thrust the sugar across the table to Draco, who accepted it graciously, nodding his appreciation to Dudley with one small inclination of his head. Then Aunt Petunia sat down.  
  
"How long have you known Draco then, Harry," she asked, conversationally, "you haven't spoken about him at home before."  
  
No, because you weren't interested, Harry though, causing Draco to cough slightly into his coffee, which made Dudley jump again.  
  
"Since my first day," replied Harry, truthfully.  
  
"So you're old friends now, then," she pressed.  
  
"Yea, I guess," said Harry. Aunt Petunia was rocking on the front two legs of her chair, obviously with a burning question which she either did not know how to phrase, or was afraid to ask.  
  
"Erm, Professor Dumbledore," she paused, questioning the name to Harry and Draco, who nodded together, "said that you're allowed to do magic at home, now," she said, meeting neither Harry's nor Draco's eyes, nor those of her son, who had reared on his chair in horror. Suddenly there was a loud crack as the two back legs of the chair broke, but in a flash Draco's wand was out, and Dudley was suspended exactly where he had been before the chair broke. He watched, frozen for an instant, as the chair fell to the floor beneath him, then screamed and ran from the room. Aunt Petunia, Harry and Draco all heard the front door slam, and knew that Dudley would most probably be gone for a while.  
  
Aunt Petunia started applauding Draco, then ran around the table and hugged him.  
  
"Thank you," she said, "the number of times Duddy has hurt himself falling off chairs like that!" Draco and Harry had to try very hard not to laugh.  
  
"We'd better unpack before dinner," Harry suggested. Draco, murmuring his agreement, followed Harry up the stairs and into Harry's room. Harry ushered Draco into the room first, then shut and locked the door.  
  
"Silencio," murmured Harry, waving his wand at the door, then at the window, thus soundproofing the room. The pair of them burst into almost uncontrollable laughter at Dudley's eminent terror of anything magical.  
  
"I can't wait for dinner," said Draco, a little darkly.  
  
The problem with Harry's room was that there was only one single bed in it, a problem which Harry rectified with a flick of his wand. On the opposite side of the room appeared an identical single, divan bed, in the space where Harry usually deposited his trunk. Draco came and stood next to him, surveying Harry's work.  
  
"Hmm, I've a better idea," he said, "may I?"  
  
"Of course," Harry replied, stepping aside.  
  
Draco swung his wand theatrically. There was a loud crash as Harry's nightstand and desk were shoved across the room, into the space where the second bed had been, as Harry's original bed expanded rightwards, stretching into a full-sized double bed. Harry grinned – he'd been to shy to suggest that, but was pleased that Draco had. As a final touch, Draco flicked his wand at the new bed, and out sprouted four tall posts, complete with dark green hangings.  
  
"Very nice," said Harry, "where are you going to sleep, then?"  
  
Pretending that he was annoyed by Harry's comment Draco pushed him backwards onto the bed, advancing on him, wand raised. At the last second, he flung it aside, and leaned forward over Harry, resting on his outstretched arms which were either side of Harry's chest. Pushing Harry slightly further back onto the bed, and lying down right on top of him, Draco said, "well, sleeping right here seems the most attractive proposition!"  
  
As they smiled at each other, Draco slid his arms underneath Harry's back, and rolled over, so Harry was on top, kissing him passionately. With his nose inches from Harry's Draco asked.  
  
"Or do you prefer it this way up?"  
  
As Harry lay on top of Draco, the pair of them separated only by their clothes, he could feel himself becoming powerfully aroused, and as it pressed into Draco's crotch, he could feel that it was happening to both of them. Harry drew a deep breath, and Draco pushed his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes and arching his back. Then Harry ran his hands up both sides of Draco's torso, underneath his T shirt, lifting it off over his head. Draco raised his arms so that Harry could pull the garment off. Harry stared lovingly, for a moment, at Draco's smooth, creamy, lightly muscled torso. His physique was beautiful, with toned, but not over- pronounced muscle. His arms, which were starting to work off Harry's T shirt, were strong, and similarly toned. His body was warm, though as Harry's shirt came off and their bodies met for the first time, there was an almost electric heat between them.  
  
Harry tipped his head sideways, and slid down Draco's body a little, hugely enjoying the pleasure of the contact, and kissed Draco's neck, while he writhed with the pleasure. Harry's hand had made their way all the way back down Draco's body, and were working the fastenings of his jeans. When they were free, Harry pushed down Draco's boxer shorts and the jeans both at once, desperate for more. Draco started kissing Harry again, both of them slipping their tongues as deep as they could into each other's mouths – longing for as much contact as possible. Harry felt his own jeans being pushed down, then kicked them off. Draco rolled the pair of them over again and took control. Sinking back down on Harry, and sliding down his body at the same time, Draco took Harry's erection in his hands, working it passionately whilst tantalizing Harry's stomach with the tip of his tongue.  
  
Harry almost could not stand the pleasure – Draco was driving him wild. He had to show him how much he loved him. He was breathing harder than ever.  
  
"Draco," he panted, barely able to speak. Knowing what Harry wanted to do, Draco pulled himself back up to Harry's level, pulling on his shoulders. They lips and tongues met again. Draco turned over so that his back was towards Harry, his head turned right around so that their vital lip-contact was not broken before it needed to be. The pair of them were shaking with the anticipation. Draco broke off their kiss, and turned his head away, closing his eyes as Harry approached. Harry was working himself closer, stroking the sides of Draco's torso with his hands all the time. As his chest met Draco's back, both their minds felt like they were ready to explode with pleasure.  
  
Draco's eyes widened at Harry came onto him. Draco was only aware of himself and Harry, as one entity, and nothing else mattered in the whole world. Draco moaned as he felt Harry inching inside him, until he felt Harry's pelvis against his lower back. Breathless, the pair of them paused for an instant before Harry began to gently pump their union. Both of them moaned much louder and much more ardently as they settled into each others' rhythm. Before Harry knew it, his climax was upon him. His body tensed, and both of them were almost blown away by the pulsating pleasure they both were experiencing. Harry fell limply onto his back as he withdrew, in the malaise that follows this kind of activity. He needed more of Draco, he felt, to continue living. Draco rolled back over to face Harry, his eyes alight with desire. Harry knew, again, what he wanted to do. He drew Draco closer to him, licking the side of his face, his nose, his lips, lightly with the tip of his tongue. Harry drew his tongue right down Draco's body, before Draco's head reared again as he felt a new pleasure, which he had dreamed about many times.  
  
During his own dreams, Harry had never considered how he would breathe as deeply as he would need to, with his mouth full, but the pleasure he could feel Draco experiencing heightened his desire to the point where he felt so alive that he would happily have died. Draco could not control the movement of his pelvis, which was thrusting him deeper down Harry's throat. Draco ran his hands down his own body, revelling in the pleasure, before running his hands through Harry's hair and caressing his boyfriend's head deeper into his crotch. He began to moan again, the volume and the pleasure each in an exponential crescendo. Harry murmured his pleasure as he felt Draco's warmth pulsing into his mouth. Draco moaned louder than ever when he felt Harry's tongue and throat contract, as he swallowed. After enjoying a brief pause, Harry came back up and looked Draco straight in the eye. Draco leaned in a little, and licked a little bit of himself off Harry's lip. Then Harry saw the sides of Draco's eyes crease as he smiled, before leaning into kiss him again.  
  
Harry rolled off Draco, and the pair of them stared at the canopy of the bed hangings, both smiling serenely. They held hands, and said not a word as they just enjoyed each other's company and thought about what they had done. It had been entirely beyond any dream or inclination that either of them had ever had, and they both knew it would get better with experience and time. Next second, they scrambled off the bed and began fervently pulling on clothes.  
  
They had both heard the front door slam, which meant that Uncle Vernon was home from work. This meant that dinner would be on any second. Indeed, as Harry pulled on his pants and began to thrust his legs into his jeans, he heard someone mounting the stairs. Even though Harry knew he had locked the door, the fear of being caught made him move even faster to get dressed. Just as he pulled on a T shirt, the door handle rattled, then the door opened.  
  
Still red in the face from his fight to get dressed for dinner, Harry stared at Aunt Petunia with an utterly flabbergasted expression on his face. She had just opened, with no trouble at all, a magically locked door, with no wand, no magical experience and no incantation. Aunt Petunia did not notice this.  
  
"Dinner's on," she said, warmly, and noticing that Draco was now wearing a different shirt, she added, "there was no need to change for dinner, dear, you were perfectly presented anyway." She withdrew from the room and closed the door in her wake. Harry and Draco looked at each other and smiled nervously as they noticed that in their haste they had put back on each other's T shirts. Aunt Petunia's apparent immunity to locked doors added another new dimension too – they might actually get caught. The smiles on both their faces widened as they each saw the light of adventure twinkling in each others' eyes.  
  
The following couple days until Christmas Eve passed quite quickly. Harry and Draco avoided the Dursleys as much as it was possible to, without leaving the house, as Dumbledore had made clear. They kept each other occupied for much of the day in Harry's room, venturing downstairs only at mealtimes, or when their conversation had come around to some piece of Muggle equipment that Draco wanted to know about. After they had finished wrapping presents for each other, and one each from the pair of them for the Dursleys, Harry and Draco were sitting watching TV on Christmas Eve. While Draco was trying to figure out how to change channel with the remote control, something tapped at the window. Harry jumped up and let in a very cold brown owl, which was followed by a flurry of snow from outside. It dumped its letter on Draco's lap, then looked around for a fire to warm itself up before. Seeing only the Dursley's electric fire, the owl glared at it for a moment, then settled before its warmth.  
  
Draco was too busy mashing buttons on the TV remote to be bothered with mail, so when Harry sat back down next to him, he pushed the roll of parchment at Harry without removing his gaze from the set. Harry unfurled the parchment and read the message, which was from Hermione.  
  
Dear Harry and Draco,  
  
Ron and I just got owls from the Order – they want to see us both at HQ on Boxing Day. I can only imagine that you'll be asked there too. Do you see what I'm getting at? Ron! He doesn't know, and you're not going to see him before Boxing Day to let him know. Write back straight away and tell me what you want me to do – I think it would probably be better if I tell him, because if you hide Draco until you've told Ron, then wheel him out, it might be too much for him to handle. I think he'll probably be OK with it if we give him a chance to think about it before he sees you together.  
  
Write back NOW!  
Hermione  
P.S. Merry Christmas, both of you! XX  
  
"Damn," said Harry, quietly.  
  
"What?" asked Draco, absently, then noting Harry's tone, be withdrew his stare from the television. Harry handed him the parchment. After he had finished reading it, Draco laid his hand on Harry's arm.  
  
"You know what has to be done," he said, gently.  
  
"Yea," said Harry, taking out his wand and conjuring parchment and a self- loading quill.  
  
Hermione – OK, do it. Thanks, Us. X P.S. Merry Christmas to you too.


	3. Chapter III

Hey guys. This chapter is, by far, the shortest so far ('only' 6000 words according to Word) - I thought I'd post this much now, as I'm going on vacation for three weeks, and I didn't think you all could wait that long!! Therefore, Chapter 4 will be a little longer in coming (no pun intended!!) - hope you like it. Your feedback has been really encouraging!! Cheers, guys - Logan.

* * *

It took Harry a long while to get to sleep that night, though not exclusively because of his worry about Ron. On Christmas morning Harry was quite tired, and was also walking stiffly, as Draco had repaid him, in kind, for the evening they had arrived in Privet Drive. With Draco's reassurance, Harry was sure that Ron would not have a problem with them, once he had gotten over the initial double-blow of shock, that Harry was going out with the person they had loathed since day-one at Hogwarts, and that that person was also a boy. They had both woken early, so as they waited for the Dursleys to wake, they lay still, next to each other on the bed, in a peaceful silence.  
  
"Doesn't this all seem a bit unlikely to you?" asked Draco, suddenly.  
  
"What, us?"  
  
"Yea – two months ago we didn't have a word to say to each other."  
  
"I guess its unlikely, but it doesn't feel wrong," said Harry, turning his head to look at Draco. They both smiled serenely at each other, then leant in for a kiss. Then the pair of them heard movement in the surrounding rooms, and figured that it was probably time to go downstairs.  
  
When they walked into the living room, they found that Dudley was already there, shaking all the presents ranged around the base of the plastic Christmas tree. It was true to say that most of them had Dudley's name on them, but both Harry and Draco thought that Dudley was a little too eager for someone his age.  
  
Then Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came into the room in their pyjamas and bathrobes. Aunt Petunia flung herself on Dudley, giving him 'Christmas kisses' which he did not appear to particularly appreciate, while Uncle Vernon surveyed Harry and Draco. He had been outraged when he'd heard that Harry was coming home for Christmas, beside himself with fury when he had heard that Harry was bringing a friend home, and extremely scathing when he'd worked out that the 'friend' was actually a boyfriend.  
  
"That's what boarding school does for you," he'd yelled, "that bloody lot should keep themselves to themselves – I told you they were all messed up, Petunia."  
  
He had quietened down rather abruptly however, when Petunia had explained to him why Harry was coming home.  
  
---  
  
Once each of the Dursleys, Harry and Draco had sunk into armchairs around the room, Aunt Petunia knelt at the bottom of the tree dispatching presents to people. The first five were for Dudley, and while his oversized son tore at the wrapping, Uncle Vernon was surveying Harry again, with a look of some satisfaction on his face.  
  
"Vernon – this is for you, from the boys," Aunt Petunia indicated Harry and Draco, while Uncle Vernon raised his eyebrows.  
  
"This isn't going to explode, or something, is it boys?" he managed to quip drily. The boys each forced a smile at his half-joke, while Vernon gingerly unwrapped the parcel, revealing a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.  
  
"It's the good stuff, sir," said Draco, "and the bottle will always be full."  
  
"Will it indeed?"  
  
Then Aunt Petunia dug out a present from Draco, a flat, square, floppy parcel, which Harry recognized to be from him. Draco read the tag, looked at Harry, then tore the paper off. As the orange strip fell into his lap, his face lit up and his thin lips were drawn into a broad grin.  
  
Once the presents had all been opened, (Draco had gotten Harry a Quaffle signed by the entire England Quidditch team) Harry and Draco were back up in their room. Draco was modelling the Cannons' strip for Harry, parading in the middle of the room and flexing his arms. Harry used his wand to lift the robe up, and saw that Draco was stiffly aroused. Draco came over to the bed, and once they had undressed each other, their bodies came together once again.  
  
Before they became too engrossed however, there was a tapping sound at Harry's bedroom window. Harry had been worrying subconsciously about this since Hermione had written the day before and immediately extricated himself from Draco's clutches to let the owl in. Draco, lying on the bed, looked over at Harry, who obviously was still naked as he opened the window, fortunately it was dark outside so the neighbours wouldn't see. As Harry reached across the desk to open the window, Draco urged Harry, "Ooh – stretch a little further, and hold it!"  
  
Harry looked at Draco, his body still outstretched over the desk, trying to let Draco know that it was no time to joke around, when he realised that he had done exactly what Draco had wanted. He could not help but smile at his boyfriend looking up at him. As Harry detached the letter from the owl's leg, he could not help sneaking a look at Draco s he sat up, and thinking, 'Mmm – that's all mine!!'  
  
'Mmm' Draco agreed.  
  
The letter, which was unsigned read:  
  
Harry, Draco:  
  
We need to see you at Headquarters tomorrow. Unfortunately we cannot spare anyone to collect you; it would cause too much disturbance anyway. Therefore it will be possible, between 0900 and 0902 tomorrow morning, for your to arrive here via the Floo Network. "Phoenix HQ" will get you to us. We also need to you bring your Aunt with you, Harry. Even though she is a Muggle, she will be able to operate the Floo. We're guessing you don't have any Floo powder, so if you check the owl's other leg, you will find a pouch with some in. See you tomorrow.  
  
Draco, who had been reading over Harry's shoulder while he redressed himself, removed the pouch from the owl's leg, and checked the contents.  
  
"There's plenty here," he told Harry, before closing the pouch and laying it on Harry's nightstand. He then pulled on a T shirt, and stood up, fully dressed.  
  
"Get dressed," he suggested, "we need to go tell your Aunt that she's coming tomorrow."  
  
"Yea," replied Harry gloomily. Even though he had not been looking forward to going to Grimmauld Place, because of Ron, he had at least thought that it would allow him some time away from the Dursleys. The fact that Aunt Petunia was coming made him completely dread the whole trip.  
  
Once he was dressed, Harry stood up and grabbed the parchment. As soon as he left the room though, it caught fire. Harry started, then dropped the parchment on the carpet. Shit, he thought, as he already knew what his Uncle's reaction would be to a scorch mark in the carpet. The paper burned out, however, leaving absolutely no trace.  
  
"She'll never believe us now," Harry complained, "not that she would have anyway, with the sole support of an unsigned letter." Draco grimaced, but insisted that they go tell her.  
  
"We have to go anyway, and I don't think that Floo powder will work in that electric excuse they have downstairs. We'll need to make a fireplace, so she'll have to be on board."  
  
Harry was too annoyed to point out that they did not need his cousins' permission to do magic, as they would all leave the room as soon as a wand was drawn, and followed Draco downstairs.  
  
Aunt Petunia was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee with Uncle Vernon. She looked up as they walked in.  
  
"Vernon?" said Aunt Petunia.  
  
Uncle Vernon, who had gone sheet white, stood up and shakily left the room. The boys stared at Aunt Petunia, who invited them to sit down at the table with her.  
  
"You got your owl, then?" she asked, sounding a little nervous.  
  
"Yes," replied Draco.  
  
"How did you know?" blurted Harry.  
  
"I got one from your headmaster, Harry, when he arranged for you to come home for Christmas. He said that I would been to go someplace that you two could take me to."  
  
"Why?" demanded Harry. Draco did not want to get involved in what could become a family argument, and remained silent, even though he thought that Harry was being a bit mean.  
  
"They'll tell you tomorrow," she replied, more calmly, though Draco was sure that he detected a glint of excitement in her eye.  
  
"Fine," said Harry, slamming his hands down on the table, and standing up so forcefully that the chair skittered away across the tiled floor and crashed into the counter, causing Aunt Petunia to wince.  
  
"Harry, sit," said Draco, a little coldly. Harry was scowling, and looked very angry. It was not the first time he had felt that Dumbledore had cut him out of the loop. "Harry, stop scowling, you look most unattractive," he added, with a small smile.  
  
Harry sat back down, not because he found Draco's charm irresistible, but because he was suddenly aware that he was making a scene.  
  
"Now calm down a little," Draco continued, patting Harry paternally on the leg. As is always the case when someone says 'calm down', Harry got rather annoyed. Then seeing that Draco was making some attempt to wind him up, he did not change his facial expression but sat still feeling, oddly, more calm. Harry let Draco continue.  
  
"We'll need to make a proper fireplace, so that we can get where we need to be. Harry and I can take care of that."  
  
Aunt Petunia winced once again as she remembered how, two years previously, the Weasleys had obliterated her living room by trying to travel by Floo powder.  
  
"O-OK," she agreed finally, "what time to we need to leave?"  
  
"Nine o'clock, exactly," replied Harry, "else we'll miss it."  
  
"Right – I think you should do what you need to do to the living room straight after dinner. Then we'll all go straight to bed after Christmas dinner, because I've a feeling it'll be a long day, tomorrow."  
  
Harry figured that since Aunt Petunia had not even put the turkey into the oven, there was no point in waiting until after dinner to conjure the fireplace. Draco followed, slowly, as Harry strode into the room, drawing his wand. Dudley, who was in there watching television, screamed and left. Draco had to flatten himself to the wall to avoid being flattened to the floor by Dudley as he charged past in terror. Harry crouched in front of the fireplace, and as he manoeuvred his wand to remove the sealant around the electric fire, Aunt Petunia called dinner. Harry stood back up, his chin still on the floor. The wonderful smell of roast turkey, roast potatoes, carrots, turnips, peas, stuffing, all underlain with the watery musk of Brussels sprouts was wafting through the hatch in the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, the latter of which adjoined the living room. Uncle Vernon bustled into the room, completely blanking Harry and Draco, and removed a bottle of champagne from the cooler on the sideboard. When Dudley poked his head around the door, the prospect of a large meal outweighing his fear of what Harry and Draco may have been doing with their wands. Draco proceeded over to the hatch to take the food from Aunt Petunia, and laid it out on the heat-mats on the table.  
  
"Oh you are helpful," cooed Aunt Petunia as she handed him the infamous sprouts.  
  
"Yes, unlike him over there," put in Uncle Vernon, jerking his head over towards Harry, as he uncorked the champagne with a quiet hiss. Draco grimaced slightly, and Aunt Petunia saw. She winked back at him, and smiled sweetly. Right, thought Draco, shaking his head slightly as Harry watched, in mock disapproval. That had been practically the only thing that Uncle Vernon had said in the presence of the two boys since they had returned from school, and it transpired that it would be about the only thing he would say for the duration of their stay. He even passed the bottle of champagne round for people to help themselves, rather than serving Harry and Draco. The meal passed quite quickly. There was not usually very much conversation during a meal with the Dursleys, as Vernon and Dudley ate a lot, and Aunt Petunia sat watching her two men eat, rather than eat much herself.  
  
It's a good job we don't need words any more, thought Harry to Draco.  
  
Yea – you don't get told off for talking with your mouth full, came the reply.  
  
Very funny, Harry thought, looking briefly at Draco, who smiled fleetingly.  
  
I bet I know what could cheer you up, watch this, came the thought, from Draco to Harry. Before Harry had thought up his reply, Draco began fantasizing about Harry, while Harry could see, in Draco's mind's eye, what was 'happening'. It was quite strange, but as he saw all the things that Draco wanted to do, he began to feel quite turned on. At one point, he even choked a little on his roast potatoes, as it became lodged in his throat, just as something else got lodged in Draco's, in the fantasy. By the time the main meal was over, and Uncle Vernon was retrieving brandy to burn over the Christmas pudding which Aunt Petunia had gone to collect, Harry was feeling rather messed up in his head. The pair of them had gotten rather carried away, and Harry had shared with Draco a few of his own fantasies.  
  
Once dinner was over and the table had been cleared, Uncle Vernon migrated from the dining room to his favourite armchair in the living room and settled down in front of the television. Dudley went upstairs to play on his computer, and Harry and Draco set about preparing the fireplace for the following morning. Once she had stacked the dishwasher, Aunt Petunia hovered behind Harry and Draco watching them work.  
  
It did not take long for the two boys to remove the electric fire with which the Dursleys had plugged the real fireplace that had been there when they had bought the house. It had merely required unplugging and moving out of the way. The plug in the flue however, could not be removed without magic. Draco was wracking his brains trying to figure out a spell which could be used to remove the board non-destructively, and both of them knew that they could probably make it happen without any incantation or technique they had been taught at Hogwarts, though Harry decided that Uncle Vernon needed a small reminder of the fact that Harry was in the house, and he had been staunchly ignored by his uncle as much as possible since the beginning of the Christmas holidays.  
  
"Reducto," Harry cried, blasting the plug right out of the top of the flue in several large pieces. A cloud of white powder-dust puffed out of the fireplace and blew into the room as the wind outside was allowed once more to blow down the chimney of the Dursleys' house.  
  
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, eh?" screamed Uncle Vernon. His face, which had gone white, rapidly flushed a deeper shade of purple than usual, as he strode across the room to confront Harry.  
  
"I was removing the plug in the chimney, so that we all," he indicated himself, Draco and Aunt Petunia, "can travel through it tomorrow morning. We will fix it again once we get back tomorrow night."  
  
"Damn right you will, boy," seethed Uncle Vernon, glaring into Harry's face before returning to his television show.  
  
"It's OK," whispered Aunt Petunia maternally, touching Harry's arm. Harry looked up at her, turning up his nose and curling his lip slightly as her attitude. She quickly withdrew her hand, but smiled a little wider, scrunching her nose in what she assumed was a conspiratorial kind of way. Harry looked at Draco, his nose still upturned. They left the room.  
  
"You looked a bit like me, just then," said Draco, once they were both back in Harry's room, behind the locked door. They had also taken the precaution of moving the bed right up against the door in case Aunt Petunia decided to check on them again.  
  
"What?" asked Harry, a little distracted.  
  
"When you sneered at your Aunt," Draco repeated, "you looked a little like me."  
  
"You don't do that, do you," Harry asked, in mock surprise, with a joking smile.  
  
"Course not," sneered Draco, curling his lip.  
  
Harry had always loved the shape of Draco's mouth. The thin, red lips, which turned down at either end, had a kind of aristocratic, elegant shape to them, which always looked attractive. Even when he was sneering, and those lips were curled, the shape they made always betrayed a delicate innocence, or fragility which Harry had always noticed, even though he had not previously cared. Everyone knew that though Malfoy was insufferable, he was eminently attractive; the way he dressed, the sleek style of his semi- long, blonde hair, his perfect, unblemished skin.  
  
There was no playfulness in that bed, that night, the pair of them had kissed goodnight, then the light had gone out and Harry had fallen straight to sleep. Draco knew that Harry was worried about the day that was to follow, and lay in the dark, watching Harry sleep by the light of the moon shining through the curtains. The rhythm of Draco's breathing was the same as Harry's as the boy lay on his side, propped up on his forearm, his elbow on the pillow, looking at Harry. Harry's chest was slowly rising and falling and his nostrils dilating ever so slightly as he breathed, the look of innocent peace the sleep always brings on his face, after the suppressed worry and stress that had been apparent on it all day, well except for, perhaps, most of dinner time! After about an hour, Draco decided it was time he got some sleep also.  
  
---  
  
The following morning, Harry awoke early. When he reached over Draco's sleeping body to find his watch on the nightstand, he saw that it was five thirty. He groaned slightly, but decided that he would never make it back to sleep, so he climbed delicately over Draco and started dressing himself. As he stood in the middle of the room, barely five minutes later, he found himself looking at Draco as he slept. He was beginning to notice, as Draco had the previous night, the innocence inherent in sleep, but he decided he did not have time to watch his boyfriend sleeping. He left the room quietly and went downstairs.  
  
When he entered the kitchen, he found that Aunt Petunia was also up and about; she was sitting at the kitchen table, straightening the cutlery she had laid out fastidiously. She looked up quickly when she heard Harry enter the room. Harry noticed that she looked excited. There was a look on her face which made it seem more alive than usual, a slight widening of her eyes, which looked brighter than usual as a symptom of this. It was, however, unmistakeably, excitement. Harry could not see what there was to be excited about. Not this time. Ordinarily he would have been excited to be going to see his two best friends, but now he realised he was in a situation where he could potentially lose one of them. Harry carried, in the pit of his stomach, a terrible sense of foreboding as he ran through a whole array of scenarios in his head, mapping all of the difference reactions he thought Ron could have to Harry's news.  
  
He looked away from Aunt Petunia and walked determinedly towards the larder. He hid behind the door momentarily as he selected his cereal from the shelf, then stared into his bowl as he poured cereal into it, then as he poured milk over the top. He watched the spoon as he fed himself half- heartedly. Determinedly not looking around the room, and especially not looking at Aunt Petunia. Looking at her face was impossible for him; the look on it made him sure that there was something going on that he was not party to, and this annoyed him. If it was anything to do with the Order, Dumbledore had promised him last year, as part of the truce that they had made over the summer, that he would not keep secrets from Harry, as far as was strategically possible for the Order. Harry could not see that anything to do with his Muggle family could be that sensitive, and the thought that Dumbledore was withholding information from him made him very angry.  
  
Harry only realised that he was being very forceful with the spoon when it caught one of his front teeth. He was about to close his lips over the cereal, automatically as he had been up to that point, but this time he swore quietly, as a zinging sensation shot right up to the root of the tooth. Harry let the spoon fall back into the bowl, and pushed the bowl of half-eaten breakfast away. He then pushed his chair back from the table, and stared at the floor.  
  
Harry and Aunt Petunia had been in the kitchen together for a full ten minutes without speaking to each other before Draco came in, looking immaculate as usual, and bade them both good morning.  
  
"Good morning, Draco," said Aunt Petunia brightly, while Harry merely grunted and did not look up.  
  
"Morning Harry," Draco repeated, leaning on the back of the chair next to Harry's, craning his neck downwards to that his face was on the point of looking up into Harry's. Harry raised his eyes from the floor, and looked tentatively into Draco's eyes, the expression on his face showing Draco all too clearly that he was not in the mood from pleasantries.  
  
"You alright, Harry?" came the thought into his head. The 'tone' of the thought was not unlike that which Hermione used, verbally of course, when she was sure that something was up.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be OK," he replied.  
  
"You're still worried about Ron."  
  
"Funny that," thought Harry, scowling fleetingly. Draco did not reply to that thought.  
  
Draco had decided on a laissez-faire approach to dealing with Harry while he was evidently so worried. In actuality, Draco thought that Harry was being a little short with those who were trying to be understanding of his situation, namely himself and Hermione. He was still thinking about this at five to nine, as the three of them, Harry, Draco, and Aunt Petunia, knelt in front of the fireplace, ready to go.  
  
While Harry had been upstairs, Draco had given Aunt Petunia a few pointers about travelling via the Floo network. It was the same talk that Harry had received from the Weasleys years ago. 'Keep your elbows tucked in', 'speak clearly', 'shut your eyes, else you'll get dizzy'.  
  
Harry had come back downstairs, and was preparing the fire. He had toyed with the idea of blasting the fire into life from the doorway as he stormed back downstairs, but fortunately his common sense, for once, overrode his anger.  
  
Harry knelt, and worked his wand. Aunt Petunia had been outside earlier in the morning and had fetched sticks and leaves for the fire. Harry had pointedly ignored them, and conjured fire straight into the dusty hearth with no fuel whatsoever. Aunt Petunia almost clapped. Harry glanced at his watch; two minutes to go.  
  
"You got the Floo powder?" he asked Draco. These were the first words Harry had said all morning. The boy silently handed Harry the pouch the owl had brought. Harry undid the clasp, and opened the flap, exposing the powder.  
  
"I'll go first, then her, then you," said Harry, indicating Aunt Petunia with a jerk of his head. He took a good pinch, and handed the pouch back to Draco. "See you in a minute," he said, before turning and casting the powder into the flames.  
  
The blue hue of the flames turned brilliant emerald green as Harry removed his glasses, squatted, and manoeuvred himself into the fire. His thought, as he called, "Phoenix HQ," was that this was a lot easier at the Weasleys', where the fireplace was high enough to stand in. The last thing he saw, before he felt the all too familiar, nauseating spinning which was characteristic of Floo travel, was Aunt Petunia's wide eyes, as she saw Harry sitting quite happily in the flames, unassailed by their green tongues that licked his body. Aunt Petunia started slightly as Harry shot off, up the flue.  
  
"After you, then," said Draco, politely, offering the pouch to Aunt Petunia. She nervously took a pinch and cast it into the flames, before gingerly crawling onto the hearth. Just as she sat in the flames, Uncle Vernon reached the bottom of the stairs, and saw his wife sitting in the fire, as that boy knelt in front.  
  
"What the bloody hell..." he began, before abruptly falling silent as his wife disappeared. Draco caught sight of Uncle Vernon standing, framed, in the doorway, a mad look in his eye. He looked as if he were about to charge Draco down and rip him to shreds. His eyes widening in the beginnings of panic, Draco cast the last of the Floo powder into the fire behind him, drawing his wand in case he needed to defend himself against Harry's uncle. Uncle Vernon eyed the wand fearfully, as Draco sank, and began to back into the fire.  
  
"Phoenix HQ," said Draco, his eyes still firmly on Uncle Vernon. He managed to flash a smile and a quick wave at the Muggle, before shooting off up the flue, leaving Uncle Vernon alone in the living room.  
  
---  
  
Wham! The whizzing sensation, which accompanies Floo travel, ended abruptly, and Harry was painfully aware that for the second time travelling via the Floo network, he had arrived at his destination face-first. Picking himself up, and moving out of the hearth to leave room for Aunt Petunia and Draco to arrive, and wondering dimly if the Reparo fixing charm would work on the black eye he could feel rising around his left eye, Harry heard someone calling his name across the room.  
  
He had arrived right in the open entrance hall of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters in Grimmauld Place, and he could now see Hermione and Ron descending the stairs to his right. It was Hermione who had called his name. As she reached the bottom of the stairs she held out her arms to Harry, who hugged her briefly.  
  
"Merry Christmas," he said, over her shoulder.  
  
"You too," she replied.  
  
They broke apart, and Harry's eyes met Ron's. It appeared the Ron was not going to say anything, and Harry opened his mouth to speak. At that point though, there were two whumph! sounds, as Aunt Petunia and Draco arrived, in quick succession in Grimmauld Place. Before he turned, Harry saw Ron's face fall, and felt a pang in his stomach.  
  
Dusting himself off, Draco called over to Harry, "your uncle arrived in the living room just as she," he indicated Aunt Petunia, "left the house, so I had to follow really quick, I though he was going to charge me down..." he stopped talking.  
  
"Shame he didn't," Hermione heard Ron breathe over her shoulder. She reversed her elbow into his stomach sharply, yet discretely, before Ron got the day off to a very bad start. Draco had spotted Ron and Hermione at the bottom of the stairs. He nodded over to Hermione, who looked slightly warmer than Ron, though both of them had suddenly gotten rather stiff. They were saved the forced pleasantries, however, as Mrs Weasley entered the hall from the dining room, where an Order meeting had evidently just finished, as she was followed in rapid succession by Mr Weasley, and Professors Dumbledore and Snape.  
  
"Harry, dear," beamed Mrs Weasley, seizing him and drawing him into a tight, motherly hug. "Couldn't you have done a little better than that, dear?" she whispered in his ear, as she spied Draco, over Harry's shoulder. Harry grinned at her, sheepishly, as she released him; he sensed that she was joking him.  
  
"Hello, Harry," said Mr Weasley, shaking his hand tightly, "how're the Muggles? Did you have to move that pretend fire again? I was thinking, after our previous visit, I wonder if Floo powder would actually work on an eclectric fire..." he was cut short by a sharp jab in the side from one of Mrs Weasley's elbows. Harry thought momentarily that Ron's reaction to Hermione's elbow was extremely similar to Mr Weasley's reaction to his wife's. His thoughts were cut short, also though, by Dumbledore. Everyone fell suddenly silent as Dumbledore swept Aunt Petunia out of the room, having not said a word to anyone else. Mrs Weasley had stoutly ignored the presence of the Muggle, though Harry had noticed Mr Weasley looking over his shoulder as he had been speaking about the Dursleys' fireplace, at Aunt Petunia, who had been standing behind Harry, still over by the hearth. Suddenly there was a clattering on the stairs. Ginny ran halfway down the stairs, hollering Ron.  
  
"Ron, the wand-guy, Ollivander, needs help carrying some stuff, and there's too many for me..." she, also, stopped short. She had seen Harry. Harry looked up at her, and smiled. Her cheeks tinged with pink, but that was nothing to how red they went when Harry saw her eyes flick across the room and her gaze land on Draco. When she saw him, her face went bright red, and she ran back upstairs, Ron following her resignedly to fetch whatever it was the Ginny wanted help with. Moments later the old man with wispy hair whom everyone knew as Mr Ollivander, Diagon Alley wand retailer, started down the stairs his arms laden with as many of his trademark long, thin boxes, each of which contained a lovingly handcrafted magic wand. Ron followed shortly behind, similarly laden, and Ginny followed him. They processed into the room into which Dumbledore had led Aunt Petunia.  
  
"This I've got to see," said Mrs Weasley, her nostrils flaring at the notion of a Muggle attempting to operate a wand, and followed Ginny into the room. Ron and Ginny, however, left the room before the door was closed after them.  
  
"I, err, suppose you all would like some time to catch up, a bit?" asked Mr Weasley. He headed off towards the kitchen and Snape followed him silently. Snape's eyes had been firmly fixed on Draco ever since he had entered the room, and they left only when Snape no longer could look at him, as he passed through the kitchen door, then shut it with a snap.  
  
"Shall we go upstairs, then?" Hermione asked, brightly.  
  
"Yea, I s'pose," said Ron, heavily, leading the way upstairs to a dingy room with a double-four-poster bed in the middle. He stood by the door as Harry, Draco and Hermione filed into the room, but shut it before Ginny entered. Hermione caught Ron's eye, and gave him a slightly reproachful look, but did not say anything about the way he had just shunned Ginny. She knew that Ginny would understand, but thought that Ron could have been a bit nicer in that way he had handled the situation.  
  
Harry and Draco sat, side by side, on the pillows at the head of the bed, cross legged, and leaning on the headboard. Hermione was sat at the bottom of the bed, leaning against one of the posts, and Ron took his position leaned against the other. Several minutes of tense silence followed. Harry knew that this was not good, and did not bode well for the discussions which everyone knew would have to follow.  
  
"So," said Ron, finally. It was uncharacteristic of Ron to be the first to break this kind of silence, so nobody said anything in response to this. "So," he continued, "you two," he waving his finger at Harry and Draco, carefully avoiding everyone's eyes, "you're together, then." It was not really a question, more a statement.  
  
"Yes," replied Harry, simply, looking concernedly at him.  
  
"So after all those years of hate, and ... rivalry, and ..." Ron searched his brain for words to describe the direness of Harry and Draco's relationship before this year, but could not find any more words, "after all those years, you're going out?" Ron's voice inflected horribly, unnaturally upwards as he finished his question.  
  
"Yes," said Harry, again.  
  
"Yeah, we were thinking about that, in bed, the other night, weren't we Harry," said Draco, in a relaxed, conversational kind of drawl, looking all the time at Ron.  
  
Ron's hand went to his chin, and he held it firmly, his jaw trembling, and expression squirming as he struggled to comprehend what he was in front of him.  
  
'Careful, Draco,' thought Harry, causing Draco to look straight into his eye, pretending to be hurt.  
  
Ron stood. He took one last look at Harry and Draco, sitting by each other on the bed, before he quickly left the room with no further words. Harry looked at Hermione, who looked at him with a 'well-it-could-have-gone-worse- don't-give-up-yet' kind of expression on her face. Harry's shoulders fell, and he slumped his leg over the side of the mattress, staring at the floor. Draco leaned over to him, and placed his hand on Harry's back.  
  
"We'll bring him around," he promised, "I'll stop being immature about this, and we'll show Ron that we love each other, and that its not going to have any detrimental effect on your existing relationship."  
  
Hermione looked at the pair of them; one of her best friends, and someone who until recently had been one of her least favourite people in the world, the latter showing such affection and concern for Harry that Hermione almost felt a tear rise the corner of her eye.  
  
"I'll go check on Ron," she said, and quickly left the room, her eyes a little red.  
  
Outside the door, Hermione found Ginny, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and looking a little surprised when Hermione came out of the doorway.  
  
"Oh," she said, with a small start. "I thought that you'd all be in there for hours talking about, you know. Is Harry and, err, Draco coming out any time soon?" She went quite red again.  
  
"What?" asked Hermione, quizzically; Ginny knew exactly what Hermione was on about, and turned ever redder.  
  
Ginny wrung her hands, excitedly. Hermione continued to look at her, rather amused, and with a fair idea of what Ginny was about to say.  
  
"Well, you know I've always had a, ... a thing for Harry," she began.  
  
"Yes," said Hermione, "you really don't hide it very well," she added, smiling at Ginny.  
  
"Well – those two have got to be about the two best-looking guys at Hogwarts," she squeaked, "and _together_?? They make _the_ hottest couple. You think?" Hermione smiled at her. At that point, Harry and Draco opened the door, and saw Hermione still standing right outside the door. Draco stood with his head over Harry's shoulder, his chin all but resting on it, as they both looked down at Ginny, who was now sitting on the floor, her knees drawn right up to her chin as she squeezed them in excitement. She looked up and saw the two of them together, snatched a deep breath, then gulped and turned even redder, before fleeing back down the corridor. 


	4. Chapter IV

The three of them stood and watched Ginny run back down the corridor and into another bedroom, slamming the door behind her, her face as red as her hair. Hermione looked around at Draco and Harry, to find both of them looking straight back at her. Knowing what they were thinking, she merely shrugged. She then remembered that before she had found Ginny outside the room. waiting for a glimpse of her favourite couple, she had been on her way to talk Ron around about Harry and Draco's relationship. Before she set off down the stairs, she continued to look straight into Harry's eyes, and spoke.

"He took this much better the other night when I broke it to him," she assured them, before continuing with her explanation. "He started making jokes about it, you know, 'I hope he doesn't fancy me,' that kind of thing, but I don't think it really hit him until he saw you together. I'll talk to him, and see what he's thinking. I'll let you both know."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, really meaning it.

"Yeah, thanks," Draco added. Hermione now looked at him, and saw that he was entirely sincere.

"No problem," she said, smiling at Draco, and seeing relief on the boy's face, as him face broke to return the smile. _Ginny's got a point,_ thought Hermione, chuckling inwardly as she set off down the stairs, Harry and Draco right behind her, fortunately unable to see the expression on her face. As they reached the downstairs hallway, Dumbledore re-emerged from the side room.

"Your Aunt is still trying out wands, Harry," he announced as he saw the threesome reach the bottom of the stairs, "her pile of tried and failed wands exceeds even yours, six years ago!!" he added, raising his eyebrows. Harry knew that it had taken to long for Harry to find a wand, because it was meant to be that Harry should use the brother-wand to that of Lord Voldemort. Harry was not particularly superstitious, but he knew that sometimes magic worked in mysterious ways, so he allowed the thought to linger in his mind for a little while. Harry also found that he was not half as mad as he had been at Dumbledore, even though he still had no idea why Dumbledore had Aunt Petunia trying out magic wands. Sensing that Harry wanted to be filled in, Dumbledore invited him, and Draco, into the front drawing room, where there were a couple of green leather, button-backed armchairs, and a matching sofa. Dumbledore settled into one of the armchairs, and Harry and Draco sat at either end of the sofa, with Harry closest to Dumbledore, looking up at the old man over an end table.

"I suppose you are wondering why your Aunt is next door trying out magic wands, Harry. I suppose, also, you're wondering how she managed to open a magically sealed door the other night, and I suppose that your primary concern is why I didn't give any reason pertaining to these occurrences when I told you that you would be spending Christmas in Surrey." The old man paused for breath after this long question. He did not require Harry to answer it, in order to know that he should continue.

"Well, when I saw you attracting, almost controlling, and very nearly capturing the power of the Whomping Willow, without using the usual incantation which summons the spirit the tree contains, I knew that you two had become a very powerful magical entity." Both boys noticed immediately that Dumbledore had called the pair of them, _an _entity, but did not interrupt the great man.

"Also, when I saw you drain the power of both my own, and you father's spells," he nodded towards Draco, "I realised that the sheer amount of raw magic you possess, and the power it represents and makes available to you both, could cause the very small amount of magical power your Aunt possesses to be able to manifest itself into useful power in your presence. Now I have no idea what you two were up to within the locked room, but I have the strong suspicion that your magic was, err, a little more united than usual at that time, perhaps? And that it was the power you brought out in your Aunt that allowed her to enter the room."

"Hold on," Harry interjected, "how do you know that she came though a locked door?"

"Do you really think that we would leave you in the exclusive care of Muggles, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "We invoked certain ways of monitoring you, and of course, the magical activity within those walls, the very first time that Hagrid and I left you on the Dursleys' doorstep.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short, I saw two main qualities that this power has for you, one advantage, and one possible disadvantage. Let us look on the bright side to begin with.

"The fact that you appear to be able to 'lend' power to the less magical, for it is not uncommon for the siblings of Muggle-born witches or wizards to possess some degree of magical power, and therefore I saw the distinct possibility for the protection she can offer you to be increased by the magic you can lend her. The magical properties of a magic wand, plus the fact that her power will grow if she is allowed to practice magic, will allow the protection to be reinforced during the term time also, when you are not present in your Aunt's house. This is why she will be given a wand, and a course in household magic from Mrs Arabella Figg, one of your neighbours and member of the Order, in the foreseeable future.

"Unfortunately though, the very property of your magic which bring out the magic in your Aunt, could just as easily be used against you by those who wish to cause you harm. I don't mean to sound like Alastor Moody when I say you must maintain constant vigilance, but it is definitely the case here. You eminently possess the ability to drain other wizards of their power when you use your magic, and I see you being able to draw prodigious amounts of magic from wizards around you in duelling situations, though it seems to me that this magical aura could be used against you by wizards approaching your power.

"I believe that your power will grow, and be more controllable by you as you get used to the amount of power you both possess. The bond between the two of you is quite possibly the strongest I have yet seen."

He leaned back in his chair, and smiled at the boys, looking quite tired.

"Gosh my throat's dry after all that," he said briskly. "Tea, anyone?" He twiddled his wand in his customary fashion, and the trademark tray of tea and the appropriate accompaniment appeared on the tip of it, before zooming down onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. Both boys silently accepted tea from Dumbledore, and continued to sit in silence.

"Do either of you have any questions?" Dumbledore asked, stirring large amounts of sugar into his tea. There was more silence for a few moments, before Harry had a thought.

"Yes," he said, "now that Aunt Petunia has enough magic to operate a wand, can we go back to Hogwarts?" He tried not to look at the look of surprise on Draco's face – he wanted to go back to Hogwarts to try to make good with Ron before term started up again. Dumbledore considered the question for a few moments, surveying Harry in his characteristic way, peering over the top of his half-moon glasses at him.

"I see no reason why not," he concluded, "you must go back to Little Whinging tonight, if for no other reason than to fix your uncle's fireplace," he winked at Harry. "Then you may _Apparate_ back to Hogsmeade tomorrow, and walk back to school."

Harry was on the point of reminding Dumbledore that neither of them could Apparate, when Snape entered the room. He looked at Draco for a second, but determinedly did not look at Harry.

"Are they ready?" he asked, shortly.

"Yes, I think so," replied Dumbledore, warmly. "Some tea, before we begin, Severus?"

"No, I don't think so, thank you, Headmaster," said Snape, in a rather rigid staccato. "I'll take my place upstairs, just in case they make it," he said, eyeing Harry finally, though rather unpleasantly. He was once again wearing his look of quiet loathing, which was reserved exclusively for Harry. It had made reappearance since Harry and Draco had struck up their relationship, though it did not really bother Harry, as he was so used to Snape not liking him and, indeed, did not like him back.

"Very well, Severus," said Dumbledore cheerfully. Snape left the room without another word.

"Apparition, my boys," announced Dumbledore, placing his teacup and saucer back onto the table and returning his full attention to the two adolescents before him, "is rather complex, though I doubt that either of you will have the least bit of trouble with it.

"There is no incantation, and no wand is needed. It only requires sufficient willpower on your part, and your inherent magic will to the rest. You must concentrate as hard as you can on where you want to go, and _will_ yourself to be there, and all things being well, you will be instantaneously transported to that destination. It will give you a bit of a shock to begin with, because you will not know, initially, at what point in time you will move. As you gain experience however, you should be able to prepare somewhat for your Disapparition.

"Professor Snape is waiting in the bedroom at the top of the stairs for your arrival, and all you have to do is _will_ yourself to be up in that bedroom, with Professor Snape."

Draco tried to suppress a snort of laughter, but was not entirely successful. Harry elbowed him, but was not as discrete about it as he would have liked. Dumbledore smiled slightly, but straightened his face again before either boy really realised that he had done so.

"Which of you would like to go first?" he asked.

"Umm, Harry – can you go first, I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore for a moment.

"Oh – sure," Harry replied, a little taken aback.

"OK, then Harry, concentrate as hard as you can on that room," he said, "will yourself to be in the room..."

If Dumbledore said anything else by way of guidance, Harry didn't hear it. With a faint popping sound, he became aware that he was no longer in the sitting room with Dumbledore and Draco. He had no idea where in fact he _was_, but before he had had enough time to ponder his situation, there was another _pop!_ and he was in the upstairs bedroom with Professor Snape.

"You managed it, then?" Snape drawled at him, distaste evident in his tone, "but of course, there's nothing that is too good for Potter, nothing that Potter can't do. Get out of my sight – go back downstairs."

"Actually, Draco wants to talk to Dumbledore in private, so I'm not going back until he's come up here also, because then I'll know he's done," Harry replied shortly.

Snape glared at him, but said nothing more. He walked as far away from Harry as he could, without leaving the room, and looked away from him. A few moments later, Draco landed on the bed, right on top of Harry. They chuckled for a few seconds before Draco got off of Harry, and when they looked back at Snape, they could see his eyes popping, a look of something like rage on his face. He regained his composure somewhat before he spoke.

"I _hardly_ think this is the time," he said, mockingly, knowing fully well that neither of them was at fault, as Apparition is prone to such innocent occurrences as someone landing on top of somebody else. "Go back downstairs, both of you, _now_."

At the same instant, Harry and Draco both Disapparated, and instantaneously reappeared back in Dumbledore's drawing room, to find themselves splinched together in a rather compromising position. Harry was on top, and tried to pick himself up, off Draco, before the pair of them realised that something was awry. Both of them felt an odd sensation, a sensation as though each had taken hold of a large pinch of skin on the stomach and pulled it rather hard. Harry stopped trying to lift himself off the floor straight away, resting back onto Draco. They both realised at that stage that they were no longer two people, at least not to look at. They managed, just, not to panic, then Draco drew his wand and raised them both up into a standing position in front of Dumbledore.

"Oh Dear," he said, a little surprised, "you are very powerful indeed, it seems." He drew his wand, to separate the two boys. "Professor Snape should have known that this was an eminent risk for the two of you. If two people who share power, like you two, Apparate at the same time, between the same points, your united magic will unite your bodies, as you see here."

Just as Dumbledore raised his wand, Snape Apparated right next to him, looking straight at the boys, smirking, "seems there are some things yet, you still can't do."

This was the first occasion on which Harry or Draco had seem Dumbledore shoot a questioning look at any member of his staff. The look was quickly replaced however, and the great man settled for quietly clearing his throat instead of making a point to Snape. His eyes returned to the boys, "this should not hurt," he promised, and raised his wand again.

At the point where Harry's and Draco's bodies were connected, there grew a large bubble of flesh which, when it had reached a sufficient diameter, split, and the excess flesh wrapped itself back around the boys' bodies, leaving them as before, as if nothing had happened. Their clothes had mirrored the motions of the reparation, preserving the boys' privacy.

Shortly after an hour's addition practise, the boys returned to Privet Drive with Aunt Petunia, via the arcane-feeling Floo system. They repaired Uncle Vernon's fireplace, then repaired themselves to Harry's bedroom, for a good night's sleep. As Harry snuggled back in the bed, against Draco's chest, Draco whispered in his ear, "I can think of a better way to 'unite our bodies'."

A wide grin split Harry's face, and he rolled over onto Draco. After an extended period of intense physical activity, the two boys simultaneously moaned louder than ever as they both reached their climax. As they bucked together, the image faded, to be replaced by a view of a dark ceiling.

Ginny woke from her dream, breathing hard. Across the country, Harry rolled off Draco, falling onto his bed, tired but entirely satisfied. They fell asleep in each others' arms within minutes.

The next day Harry and Draco both packed their trunks, and after breakfast bade the Dursleys farewell. Aunt Petunia seemed genuinely upset that they had to leave, as she had been hoping for additional magic tutelage from the boys. They each took firm hold of their trunks, as Dumbledore had instructed, and concentrated on the iron, gargoyle flanked gates of Hogwarts. Instantaneously they both vanished from the Dursleys' lives, and magically reappeared hundreds of miles away, staring up at the great gates.

"Well, bugger it, I'm not walking," drawled Draco, and with that he flicked his wand and Summoned one of the horseless carriages that usually appeared at the beginning and end of each term to transport students between Hogsmeade station and the Hogwarts entrance. Before Harry could ask, Draco explained.

"They hang around outside the Slytherin common room – you know that grille in the ground in the back courtyard?"

"Yea..."

"There. They're driven my some quite powerful Dark magic, apparently. The year after you conquered Voldemort they had a big event when they could finally start using them again. They had to keep them locked up during Voldemort's years, as obviously they yearned for him."

Harry had not really listened to the second half of Draco's explanation, as he was been taken aback by the fact that Draco was the first person he had known to use Voldemort's name, excluding himself and Voldemort. They stepped aboard the evil carriage, and sat for about a minute.

"Come on you bastard," muttered Draco, stabbing the backrest of the seat with his wand, spurring the carriage into moving off. It moved very slowly, unwillingly. Harry and Draco were lost in conversation as it gradually altered its path away from the castle. At length, as the boys continued talking, the carriage jolted to a halt and threw its door open, in usual fashion. Without thinking, Harry and Draco each seized their trunks and piled out of the carriage. When they looked up, however, their trunks fell heavily back to the ground.

Instead of the warming view of the entrance to their school, the boys found themselves beholding the seething visage of Lucius Malfoy's face. Draco began visibly to shake, but Harry remained unmoving.

"You disgust me," said Lucius, suddenly. "Walking out on your family and our honour, the pride and respect the Malfoy name commands," he spat. Draco was shaking, and Harry could see was ready to capitulate entirely to his father, as had been expected of him throughout his life, with the exception of the past two weeks, since their encounter in Dumbledore's office.

"Honour? Respect?" said Harry, shaking too, but with fury not fear. "You've suppressed Draco his entire life." His wand had come out of his inside pocket. Lucius had not noticed until that point, so taken aback was he that he should be talked back to. Lucius began to whirl his wand."

"We've done it before," roared Harry, enraged. Draco, taking heart from Harry stood, his wand raised also, his hand dead still, the tip of his wand aimed directly at his father's heart.

"Draco!" a shrill voice carried over to them from somewhere off in the forest. That moment, Draco's mother came into the clearing, gliding across the soft forest ground like a wraith. She also had her wand raised.

"Go home, Narcissa," Lucius commanded his wife. Both boys and Lucious could see that the thin woman was fighting her every instinct, bar one. Her instinct to protect her only child was stronger than the instinct which told her to run for her life. She moved in between the two boys and her husband, separating them, and defending her son and his boyfriend from him. Lucius' lip curled, in its familiar way. Draco's lip curled in a similar manner, though it looked, to Harry, endlessly more attractive on Draco's face, due to the shape of his mouth, and his thin lips. When Lucious raised his wand and opened his mouth, the incantation was barely audible.

"Avada Kedavra," he breathed, and a rushing sound began to fill the air. As a wall of green light began to surge towards Narcissa and the two boys, in the blinding light, the noise doubled. Draco was terrified; his parents had finally done what had been building up his whole life. Harry dived on Draco, pushing his unwilling form out of the path of the killing curse. Squinting through his almost-closed eyelids he saw two walls of lightpass right through each other, in the instant they crossed, the pinpoint in time during which the two curses were occupying the same space, which Harry was now viewing through his eyelids, such was the intensity of the light. That instant passed and the lights each passed on their lethal ways, rolling right over the two people occupying the centre of the clearing without stopping, before fading at the edge of opposite sides of the clearing. The sound faded to deathly silence, and Harry opened his eyes. The ground over which the curses had passed was scorched, the strip between the two bodies charred black where two curses had passed over. The perfectly still bodies of two people who had been alive moments before were, in contrast to the wrecked terrain, utterly unblemished, but most definitely lifeless. Draco was cowering on the ground, at Harry's feet as he stood surveying the scene before him. He crouched beside his lover's trembling form, and laid a hand on his shaking shoulder.

Draco began to weep audibly. The emotion of the last two minutes events hit him so hard he couldn't control it. Without saying a word, he just lay on the ground, his eyes screwed up, refusing himself the indulgence of his own desire to see for himself what had happened. Such was the intensity of the moment, that while his eyes had been shut, he had been able to see through Harry's eyes, and what Harry had seen utterly terrified him. Both of his parents dead, each of them having killed the other. He picked himself up, rolling away from the clearing, and pulling Harry down to his level. He looked up into Harry's green eyes, and saw the redness around the startling irises, the tears welling at the bottom of his eyes. He slipped his arm around Harry's neck, placed his chin over Harry's shoulder and wept unashamedly into his neck.

Harry cried with him. He had lived his whole life without parents, and as he could never remember having parents, and therefore did not remember experiencing the loss of parents, he knew what life was like without the luxury. Harry's empathy was compounded by the fact that the previous year his uncle, Sirius, with whom Harry had hoped so much to go live with, had also passed away preserving Harry's life. He still had nightmares about it, and had not fully forgiven himself for getting into the situation from which he had required rescuing. It had brought home the reality that in the game in which Harry was involved through the consequence of a magical prophecy, the stakes were as high as they could possibly be.

He knew that Draco would be feeling as though the world had ended, and also as though it was his own fault. However, Harry could sense through Draco's anguish at the demise of his parents, a sense of happiness, or if not happiness then a certain relief, if that, even, was the right word for it. Through uncontrollable, snatched breaths, Draco spoke silently into Harry's ear, raising his head off Harry's shoulder just enough that Harry could just hear as he all but mouthed the words.

"I love you, Harry," he managed.

These words started an additional wave of tears welling in Harry's eyes. He did not know what to say, how to respond. It seemed insensitive to even ask how Draco felt. He settled for the most direct and obvious answer to what Draco had said, without pushing the conversation, perhaps, further than Draco wanted to go.

"I love you too," he nuzzled into Draco's ear. Their embrace tightened momentarily, before Draco disengaged himself from Harry's grip and turned slowly to survey the scene he had been dreading.

The grass was still smoking around and between where his lifeless parents lay, their expressions frozen in time. Draco stepped over his mother's form, and looked into her face. Standing behind Draco, far enough behind so that Draco had the room he needed, yet close enough that Draco knew he was there for him, Harry also saw. Saw her petrified face frozen in an expression of desperate desire to protect her son, to fend off the attack of her husband. After a moment, Draco took the hood of her robe from under her head, and lowered it over his mother's already cold face. As he did so, he took a deep breath, his eyes closed. As he released that breath, he stood back up and viewed his mother for the final time. He then stepped back from the dead body, and linked his hand with Harry's. He led Harry from the clearing without looking back.

The pair exchanged no words during their trek back up to the castle – their carriage had snuck off while the Malfoys had been duelling, and they wouldn't have trusted it had it remained. Remarkably, they made it to the edge of the forest, a good five minutes' walk, without meeting any of the forest's other inhabitants, which had to be something of a record in itself. They continued in silence across the vast front lawns of Hogwarts, right up to the oak front doors of the castle. They stood at the bottom of the stone steps, appraising the castle for a moment as it stood before them, impressive and imposing. Once at the top of the steps, their hands came apart for the first time since they had left the forest.

"What time is it?" Draco asked, his voice hardly discernable from his usual smooth elocution, despite what he had just witnessed.

"Err," said Harry, stalling for time in the customary fashion of one consulting one's wristwatch, "just seven."

"Good – everyone will be at dinner. Lets go in and find somewhere out of the way while everyone's in the Hall."

Harry followed without any verbal response, as Draco held the door for him, and shut it behind him. The went straight on, across the Entrance Hall and up the magnificent marble staircase that was the central feature of the hall. About halfway down the first floor corridor, Draco tried the handle on the door to one of the empty classrooms – locked. The next too.

"Why do all the teachers lock their rooms?" Draco snapped, angrily, not at Harry, but more to the door. Not wanting to annoy Draco by saying 'calm down' which only ever has the effect of winding someone up, Harry touched his arm.

"Follow me," he said, and led the way back to the staircase, and up two more flights. He tried each door along the corridor in turn, until finally one opened. When it did so, Harry put his head around the door and looked into the room. He smiled briefly, then pushed the door wide, allowing Draco to enter the room before him. Harry shut the door behind him, and locked it magically. He crossed the room and sat down on a sofa, which was facing a large fireplace. As he sat, he launched an arc of bright flame across the room into the hearth, where it took hold, illuminating and warming the room. Draco sat at the far end of the sofa, looking into the heart of the fire.

The room Harry had led Draco to was, of course, the magical room which appeared according to the needs of the finder. He had first heard about it when he had overheard a conversation between Professors Dumbledore and Karkaroff, of Durmstrang, two years previously, on which occasion the room had been filled with chamber-pots. The previous year, Harry had regularly conducted meetings of the "DA", Dumbledore's Army. It was in this very room that he had had his first kiss, from Cho Chang, a pretty, oriental girl, who played opposite Harry on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Harry returned from his musings, and withdrew his gaze from the fire, and looked at Draco. He was slightly surprised to see Draco looking straight into his eyes. He was smiling.

Through the shock of having witnessed his parents murdering each other, Draco moved over to Harry, slipping one arm around his back, and nuzzling into the base of Harry's neck, his chin hooked over Harry's shoulder. He began to weep. After a few moments he pulled away from Harry, and smiled broadly into Harry's face.

"I'm so happy," he said, which confused Harry for a moment, before the explanation came, "my parents, neither of them, would never have seen us together."

Something occurred to Harry, and he interrupted.

"But your mum came and defended..."

"Me. She stopped my father killing me. She would have turned and killed you a second later. She might be slightly more compassionate then my father where I'm concerned, but she's still a huge supporter of the Dark Lord."

Harry did not contest further. He smiled back at Draco.

"Also, this will make it a lot easier to come out to the rest of the world," Draco continued. He stopped abruptly, and looked at Harry, who suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. He wanted to go see Ron, and talk to him rationally, before anyone else found out. And time for this was short, because it would be impossible for it to remain secret for much longer. Secrets have a habit of coming out at Hogwarts, often from the most unassuming of sources. Of course the ghosts did not help matters at all. They would float through walls into rooms, and witness private conversations, or activities, entirely by chance, but then they would talk to each other about what they had seen, then a student would hear, and then the entire school would know before the end of the week.

"Yea, it will," Harry agreed with Draco, "it'll still be hard though. How will we do it?"

"Well, I'd brush up on a bit of defensive magic before too long," joked Draco, though both of them knew that he had a point. Neither of them had any idea how the school as a whole would react to their relationship. Both were rather prominent members of the school community, each playing Seeker for their respective House Quidditch teams.

At that moment, there came a tapping sound at one of the windows – wide, short windows right up by the ceiling of the chamber, a good ten feet from the floor. Harry raised his wand and flicked it at the window, which shot open, and an owl entered the room, and dropped a roll of parchment onto Draco's lap. It also dropped a self-inking quill on top of the parchment, before settling on the mantelpiece.

Draco unrolled the parchment. It was an official letter. It read:

_Dear Mr D Malfoy_

_Following the tragic deaths of your parents, and according to standard procedures, the entire holdings of Mr L, and Mrs N Malfoy have been credited to a new account, in your name, in Vault No. 5 at Gringott's Wizarding Bank. The total credit stands at:_

_8 million Galleons_

_11 Sickles_

_2 Knuts_

_and is accessible only in your presence, at any time._

_May we extend our deepest sympathies at this time._

_Gringott's Wizarding Bank_

_Clerk 98654312_

Draco signed a slip of parchment which had come with the statement, confirming that he had received it. He handed the quill and the slip back to the owl, which duly took off and left through the still open window.

"Vault Number 5?" Harry asked, in awe. He had found out, over the summer, how the Gringotts' vaults were numbered.

"Yea," said Draco, rereading the statement.

"You're the fifth richest wizard banking with Gringotts."

"I guess so. This figure doesn't include the contents of the vault at home though, my father kept most of his money where only he could get it. He was rather paranoid, though it is true that our home has better security, even, than Gringotts or Hogwarts."

Harry had just recalled that his vault number wasn't that high, and out of all the people who banked with Gringotts, which was practically the entire magical community, he must also be one of the richest wizards in Britain. He smiled to himself, briefly.

It was no secret that Draco's family was rich, though. Everyone knew, mainly because Lucius was always seen to be handing out enormous grants to St Mungo's, the wizarding hospital, or to Hogwarts or any number of other 'good causes', which would keep him close to the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

"The money has been passed down through about 6 generations, the seventh most recent was a successful businessman – the money is actually legitimate, though nobody would believe it, after our family's recent history."

"6 generations?" asked Harry, "were all your ancestors only children?"

"No," Draco replied, "the money was always handed down to the oldest son, making sure that the money was always Malfoy money. I wonder who I'll bequeath it to – we'll not be having many children!!"

Harry chuckled with Draco, but he quickly found himself worrying once again about the more immediate future, and how the pair of them were to deal with the rest of the school.

"Let's go," he said, "you can come visiting in Gryffindor Tower. Follow me."

They crossed the room together, and as they reached the door, Draco leant on it, and turned to face Harry, smiling alluringly. Harry grinned as he leaned in towards Draco and their lips met. There was still the electricity, the insatiable desire for contact. As their tongues entwined and their hands worked around each others' torsos, they both had the tantalizing feeling of knowing that they would never be able to get enough of each other. Finally, after a couple of minutes they broke apart once again, and Draco swung the door open for Harry.

Harry stuck his head out into the corridor first, to check that the coast was clear. Just when he thought it was OK to leave, he heard the clatter feet as someone ran down the stairs at the end of the corridor. Fortunately, it only sounded like one person, and indeed, as Cho Chang landed at the bottom of the stairs, she was alone. She beamed at Harry when she saw him, which Harry though was odd, as she had given up speaking to him the year before, following their first date when she had insisted upon talking about Cedric Diggory, her boyfriend from the year before, who had perished during the Triwizard Tournament.

She slowed as she reached him, and was too busy staring at Harry's eyes to notice the door behind him move very slightly as Draco shifted it so as not to be seen. Cho stopped short of Harry, looking straight into his eyes.

"Have you been thinking about it too?" she asked. The question was quite abrupt, in the character of someone who, having said something, had decided that though they had summoned the courage to ask the question, did not feel as if they had the bravery to hear the answer.

"About what?" asked Harry, genuinely taken aback.

"You know. What happened in here? Last year?"

"Err yea, I guess so," said Harry, still not cottoning on.

She took a step towards him, so that they were standing practically nose to nose, and started to put her arm around Harry's neck. Finally realising what she wanted, Harry tried, and failed, to stumble backwards. As she began to lean forwards, Harry's arm found the door which he pushed open to reveal Draco standing inside the room.

Harry's abrupt backwards lurch distracted Cho, and she opened her eyes again, and caught sight of Draco. Then she looked back at Harry, who took another step backwards to stand next to Draco, and linked his fingers with Dracos. Cho's mouth hung, unflatteringly, wide open as she saw the two boys standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Then she choked slightly.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she managed, before stumbling backwards out of the doorway and running off, back up the stairs.

"Shit," said Harry, bluntly.

"Mmm, hmm," agreed Draco, "you should have let her kiss you, though of course I'm exceedingly flattered that you didn't."

Harry turned to look at him, trying to communicate without words how not-funny Draco was being. He already had the idea though, and suggested quickly that they go up to Gryffindor Tower quickly, and find Ron before Cho told everyone about them.

"Thanks," said Harry, just as they set off at a run, in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

When they reached the portrait hole, they stopped running, as the Fat Lady regarded the pair of them with a slightly questioning look on her face.

"Wait here," Harry said to Draco, "I want to see how many people are here before you come in. I think technically you're not supposed to come in here. I'll be back in a sec if its OK."

While Harry told the Fat Lady the password, she narrowed her eyes at Draco over Harry's head, so make sure that he wasn't trying to overhear the password in purpose. Satisfied, she swung open to allow Harry to climb through the opening, before slamming quickly shut behind him, preventing Draco from following. As she stared down at him, Draco shot her a withering look. She looked away.

Inside the common room, Harry found it was empty except for Hermione who was sitting in the comfy armchairs in front of the fire, reading an unbelievably thick book. She looked up from it as she heard him enter.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, when she saw him, Dumbledore let you come back. When did you arrive?"

"About five minutes ago," Harry lied, "we had a little trouble with the transportation though."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"I'll tell you later. Where's Ron?"

"He just went upstairs to get something."

"How is he?"

At that moment, Ron appeared at the bottom of the stairwell to the dormitories. At the sound, Harry looked over, and their eyes met.

As soon as they made eye contact, each immediately looked down at the floor, both feeling upset about their situation, but neither about to admit to it. Finally, Ron said, "Hi Harry."

He had raised his eyes from the floor as he spoke, but dropped his gaze once again as soon as he had said it. Harry looked up to respond and saw Ron looking at the floor once again.

"Hey," he replied, nervously. Ron began to walk slowly across the room, veering towards the seat next to Hermione's in front of the fire. Harry walked backwards, and sat in a seat facing them both. Neither boy spoke, and Hermione just sat looking between them, watching them, and not saying anything either. After what seemed like the most uncomfortable eternity, Ron spoke again.

"Err, Harry?"

"Yea?"

"I'm sorry about how I reacted the other day, you know, to the thing."

"OK," said Harry. Ron looked up.

"OK? I mean, I just wasn't expecting it, and, well, it was a bit of a shock to see you two there, you know."

"Yea, I'm sorry too," said Harry, speaking to both of them, "its been going on for quite a while, and I haven't told you."

"Why not?" asked Ron, trying to sound incredulous, "its not like we'd have flipped out or anything!!" The three of them laughed, though the atmosphere was still quite tense.

"Really, though, Harry, I'm really sorry," said Ron again. He stood.

"It's OK, really," said Harry, and also stood.

"Is it OK to..." said Ron, stepping forwards.

"Sure," said Harry, and they came together in a brief hug, clapping each other on the back.

"Good to have you back, mate," said Ron as they came apart.

"It's not so bad, is it, see?" joked Harry, raising his eyebrows to Ron, grinning.

"Don't enjoy it too much, that all you're getting," Ron replied, in his usual gruff manner. "How can you have gone out with two of the best looking girls in the school, then gotten bent, Harry?" he asked, laughing.

Harry pretended to consider the question, then replied, "well one wanted to talk about previous boyfriends, and the other seemed much more interested in those little French boys. So I decided they're too much trouble."

He paused for a moment, smiling at Ron and Hermione.

"Who else is still here in Gryffindor," he asked.

"Just us," said Hermione and Ron together, looking at each other. Harry raised his eyebrows at them both, then winked at Ron, who went very pink around his ears.

"Is it OK if Draco joins us, then?" he asked, tentatively. The both nodded. Harry went to the portrait hole and pushed it open. Immediately, Draco's voice floated through it.

"Finally," he said, in mock exasperation, "I thought you'd gone to bed ... without me!" Harry laughed briefly, and behind his back, Ron pulled a very odd face, causing Hermione to laugh doubly – at Draco and at Ron.

Harry helped Draco through the portrait hole, as getting through was something of an acquired skill which took at least a terms' honing, then shut the portrait hole. Then he and Draco walked shoulder to shoulder across the room to join Ron and Hermione.

"Hi Hermione," said Draco as they walked. Hermione smiled back at him.

"Hey Draco."

Ron did the smallest of double takes, at hearing Draco and Hermione use each others' first names, then looked back at Harry and Draco. There was an odd silence, before Draco spoke.

"Hi, Ron."

"Hi," said Ron, a bit shortly, but not quite intentionally.

"Harry, did you tell them?" asked Draco seriously of Harry, turning to face him.

"No," said Harry, worry rushing back into the pit of its stomach.

"What," said Ron. Hermione asked also, but with a little more urgency.

"Umm, we're out," said Harry, bluntly. Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows,

while Draco turned up his nose at Harry's explanation.

"Allow me to explain this a little better," he said, in his soft, smooth drawl, to which all of them were accustomed, though Ron especially had never heard it without inherent malice, as he did now. "This is quite a long story, which begins with our little detour, courtesy of the horseless carriages. They took us to the centre of the forest, about an hour ago, where my father was waiting, intending to split us up," he reached for Harry's hand, "in the most permanent of ways. Now my mother turned up to protect me, and in the end my parents killed each other." Everyone was stunned at the nature in which Draco related the tale, not coldly, but without as much emotion as one would expect of someone whom has just lost both his parents.

"Harry took me to a room out of the way, so that he could talk to me about what happened. I have explained to him that I feel no sense of loss, as both my parents would have, and indeed did, die to keep us apart, and, due to the magical nature of our relationship, neither of us can survive whilst separated from the other. Therefore losing my parents was a necessary step to securing our future. Now the real catch came, when we were leaving the room, as Miss Chang spotted Harry leaving the room, and having decided to rekindle a flame with dear Harry here," he jabbed his free thumb in Harry's direction, "she discovered me, in the room with Harry."

Ron looked a little uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Ron, I assure you that nothing untoward was happening between Harry and myself at the time."

He smiled at Ron, who tried to smile back.

"Anyway, now that Cho Chang knows, it can't be long before the rest of the school finds out, especially when they all come back at the end of the holidays."

Hermione and Ron looked shocked.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione.

"Well, we were hoping you might help us with that part, Hermione," said Harry, "I don't think there's much we can do, really." Hermione pursed her lips.


	5. Chapter V

"Harry took me to a room out of the way, so that he could talk to me about what happened. I have explained to him that I feel no sense of loss, as both my parents would have, and indeed did, die to keep us apart, and, due to the magical nature of our relationship, neither of us can survive whilst separated from the other. Therefore losing my parents was a necessary step to securing our future. Now the real catch came, when we were leaving the room, as Miss Chang spotted Harry leaving the room, and having decided to rekindle a flame with dear Harry here," he jabbed his free thumb in Harry's direction, "she discovered me, in the room with Harry."

Ron looked a little uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Ron, I assure you that nothing untoward was happening between Harry and myself at the time."

He smiled at Ron, who tried to smile back.

"Anyway, now that Cho Chang knows, it can't be long before the rest of the school finds out, especially when they all come back at the end of the holidays."

Hermione and Ron looked shocked.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione.

"Well, we were hoping you might help us with that part, Hermione," said Harry, "I don't think there's much we can do, really." Hermione pursed her lips.

"Well, if there is indeed nothing we can do, then may I suggest that we don't try to do anything?" said Draco, a little coldly. Harry knew that he didn't mean to be rude, though he could become very cold and calculating at times. Harry knew that Draco didn't want to give any false impressions about their relationship, and come what may, he didn't want anybody to be able to say, with any truth, they the two of them had been trying to conceal their relationship. Even if the reaction was bad, there was no point in trying to hide the facts. The truth was, and both of them felt it, that they didn't care what the rest of the world thought. They both loved each other beyond any point they had ever dreamed of loving anyone. They did not necessarily feel any more love for each other than any other couple, as love is an emotion and cannot be quantified; however on the lowest magical level, their love was truer and purer than most other love in any world, magical or Muggle.

Draco was thinking, at that point, that his main concern was that Harry should ever want to leave him. Even knowing that it was not possible for either one of them to leave the other, if either one of them _wanted_ out, then it would change the situation entirely, and neither one of them wanted to imagine what that could turn both of their lives to. Their young relationship, so close, so tight, yet eminently yet-to-blossom, was exciting beyond measure; they both were swept up in the fantasies of what life might be like in years to come.

Unlike most adolescents, who generally think only about sex, and how many people they've had it with, and how often, both Harry and Draco, with a wisdom and maturity beyond their years, found a greater feeling of excitement about the unknown within their own relationship, a glorious apprehension of what was to come, and a self-assured thrill that, whatever _was_ to come, they would be together and both would enjoy and exploit their situation beyond measure. This aura of love, affection and the spirit of glorious discovery surrounded the two of them, and was evident to anybody with time to see it. Hermione had seen it back in Grimmauld Place, and right now in the Gryffindor common room, as he looked at the worried looks on their faces, and heard their earnest suggestions as to a remedy to their situation, Ron started to see it to, and immediately warmed both the Draco, and to his loving relationship to his best friend. He could begin to accept that while they were still the very best of friends, that is if Harry could forgive him fro his recent behaviour, he was no longer the single more important person in Harry's life. Previously, when Ron had had an idea, Harry would have jumped at it, and they both would have gotten on with it, whatever it was, whatever the risks. Now, Ron realised, and immediately accepted, Harry would have other considerations.

Ron sat back and thought. He could openly admit, to himself, that he had become much more mature since he had started going out with Hermione. He had noticed it a while back, and had teased Hermione, saying that she was taking all the fun and irreverence out of his life. She had laughed it off, secretly thinking though, that it was probably a good job too!

"I agree that there's not much we can do about the rest of the school, but as long as Cho doesn't tell anyone outside school, I can talk to the guys in the dormitory first," said Harry, "I think that it's better if my friends find out from me."

"I wouldn't rely on Cho, Harry," said Ron, "she's fickle at the best of times – remember she went out with that waster in Ginny's year last year – she'll take what she can get, and she'll do anything to attract attention. When she comes out with the story of the century…"

"Thanks for that, Ron," said Draco, smiling slightly, though his worry shone through.

"At least we no longer have my parents to worry about," said Draco. At that moment, another owl knocked on the window. Hermione popped the window open with her wand, and the owl entered the room, carrying what turned out to be the second owl that evening for Draco. He unrolled the letter as the owl left through the still open window.

_Mr Malfoy,_

_I have considered your proposal, and feel that subject to the reaction of the other members of the Gryffindor 6th Year Dormitory, it is acceptable for you to change Houses. I also feel that it would be sensible, in light of the unfortunate circumstances involving Miss Chang, that you be removed from Slytherin House with immediate effect. If you return to the room to which you repaired for your discussion earlier, you will find your belongings ranged in a suitable halfway-house, pending said reaction. Of course, if it is agreed with the current holiday contingent, you may sleep in the Gryffindor dormitories until the greater part of the school returns at the beginning of next week.Kind regards._

"What's that?" asked Harry, who had been reading over Draco's shoulder. Draco answered immediately, having obviously anticipated the question.

"You remember when we started the Apparition lessons, you went first, and I talked to Dumbledore?"

"Yea"

"Well, I was arranging to change Houses, because I figured, especially with regard to my parents, and their relationships with other parents of people in Slytherin, that it would probably be best for everyone if I left Slytherin. Of course, I would most like to join Gryffindor, for obvious reasons, but that depends on, as it says here, the reaction of everyone else in the dormitory. I wouldn't want to impose. If its not OK, I'll go in some other house."

"But," Ron paused briefly, "nobody in any of the other Houses likes you."

Hermione nudged Ron sharply, and Harry stifled a laugh at Ron's bluntness. Draco evidently found it slightly amusing too, as he snorted slightly.

"That is a fair point," he conceded. There was a short silence.

"Well," Ron broke the silence, though his speech sounded the slightest bit forced; "I wouldn't have a problem with you moving into Gryffindor," he finished.

Hermione, Harry and Draco all looked up at Ron, who grinned nervously.

"Thanks Ron," said Draco and Harry together. Ron smiled a little more widely.

"As long as you're not sleeping together, or anything, that is," he added.

"Done," said Draco, standing up. He extended his hand to Ron, who had also stood. He took Draco's hand, then pulled him close enough to pat him on the back with his other arm.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," he said as they withdrew. Hermione caught Harry's eye, and they both smiled. Draco, who was facing Hermione, now caught her eye, and smiled at her, and as she winked back, Harry and Ron grinned at each other, slightly nervously, before Harry stood and they both hugged.

"Cheers, Ron," Harry whispered. Ron grinning once again as they broke apart, before he turned to Draco.

"Do you need a hand with your stuff?" he asked. Harry and Ron looked suddenly at each other. Their belongings were somewhere in the forest, as the horseless carriage had left during Draco's parents' duel.

"Our stuff was in the carriage when it took us off into the forest, and it left before we were finished in there," Harry explained vaguely. Hermione was evidently preparing to use a Summoning charm to return the trunks, as she tutted and reached into her robes. Draco had already drawn his wand, however. Harry, of course knew what was coming due to his telekinetic link with Draco, but Ron and Hermione watched in awe as Draco silently swept his wand through the air without uttering a single word. After a couple of seconds, Draco directed his wand at an area of open space near the bottom of the stairway to the boys' dormitory, where in a blinding flash of light, the carriage thundered into the room. Draco smiled wryly when he saw it skid to a stop, and the light faded. He stepped towards the dilapidated vehicle, and as he did so, the light from the wall candles dimmed visibly. Ron and Hermione got the idea pretty quickly that Draco was intent on some rather powerful magic at that point.

As Draco approached the carriage, the door burst open, and two large Hogwarts trunks were ejected through it. Draco stood across open floor from the carriage, still a reasonable distance from the carriage itself. He smiled once more, and the carriage began to vibrate and distort. Draco raised both his arms high, and angled the tip of his wand towards the carriage which exploded into a billion tiny white sparks, with intense black centres. As the carriage erupted all Harry, Ron and Hermione could see from behind was the silhouette of the teenage boy, his arms raised and his long robes hanging from him, a vision of power and magical might. As the light faded, he turned back to the other three. Not a trace of the carriage remained.

Harry stepped forward, but Draco did not look upset, so he didn't move any further.

"You want a hand then?" asked Ron, casually.

"Please," replied Draco, taking hold of one end of his trunk. Ron dashed across and took up the handle on the other end of the trunk.

Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket, and flicked it towards his own trunk. It floated gently into the air.

"Nice to see that you two are still capable of regular magic," said Hermione, a slight waver in her voice. Hermione had always been extremely knowledgeable about magic, and admired the very most powerful wizards.

"I'm guessing, from that display, that your power must have bonded, and that therefore you're telekinetically linked to Draco?" she asked. Harry always admired Hermione's knowledge of everything magical.

"Yea," said Harry, "some of the stuff we've done is pretty amazing. We'll tell you about another awesome thing we did once, when the tone's a little lighter."

"Ooh," said Hermione – she was always interested in phenomenal magic, and people generally liked to talk to her about things like that, as she either knew about it, had a theory about it, or could easily find out about it.

Once they were in the top-level dormitory, Harry directed his trunk to its usual resting place at the bottom of his bed. Draco, of course, didn't have a bed on the dormitory.

"Hmm," said Harry, his eyes lighting up, now it was his turn. He caressed his wand, arcing it through the air, terminating in a position angled towards the empty space between his own bed and the door of the dormitory. A stream of shimmering vapour trailed behind his wand as he moved it, and when directed towards the empty floorspace, entwined together with a stream of Draco's production, before forming into the most intricately carved four-poster bed any of them had ever seen. All the time more of the vapour was streaming into the formation, and the whole time the formation became denser and denser until the final wisp of vapour joined up and the bed was complete. Hermione and Ron stood in awe.

Harry went and stood by the window, gazing out at the frozen lake. Then he had an idea. Drawing his wand from the inside pocket of his robes, he aimed high up at the sky. He drew the wand across his field of vision and as he did so, the thick cloud cover which had been depositing snow over the magical landscape was erased until the bright, full moon shone down, illuminating the entire front lawn of Hogwarts in its silvery glow. The other three joined him at the window.

"Fancy a trip down to lake?" Harry asked, out of the window. Nobody responded verbally, though he heard a distinct, excited shift pass through all of them, before he turned away from the window and led the way downstairs.

"Hold on," said Hermione, who evidently still had damage control on her mind, "what if someone else sees you two?"

"I think we can safely work on the assumption that everyone in the castle knows already, Hermione," responded Draco from behind her. Harry grinned at him, but added his own sentiments also.

"As long as I get to tell Dean, Seamus and Neville before they find out from elsewhere, I don't care who knows," he said.

"Great – lets go, then," said Ron, appearing from the dormitory staircase last of all, comprehensively wrapped up in a thick coat, gloves and an extremely long scarf.

When they exited the huge front doors of Hogwarts castle, and stepped out into the moonlit night, another wave of excitement coursed through the whole group. As the crossed the lawn in the direction of the lake they all cast long, deep blue shadows across the silver, frosted grass – grass which crunched crisply beneath their feet. Even though Harry had ridden the sky of the cloud cover, it was still snowing steadily, adding to the magical atmosphere.

About halfway down to the lake, Harry felt Draco's arm slip around, and link with, his own. Draco stopped walking, and swung Harry around to face back up at the castle, whilst whispering furiously in his ear. Ron, who was still walking towards the lake with Hermione turned around to see where their companions had gotten to.

"Oh Ron, leave them alone," said Hermione, "you said thought it was 'weird' anyway."

"I just wonder what it looks like," muttered Ron, looking forward again, as Hermione burst into fits of giggles. The pair of them also heard laughter from behind. They both turned to look at Harry and Draco, and saw that they were staring straight back at them, their wands out. As soon as their eyes met, Harry and Draco turned away again, chuckling. Ron and Hermione continued to walk towards the lake, muttering, "_boys_," under her breath.

Meanwhile, Harry and Draco were sneaking up behind Ron and Hermione, as quietly as the frosty grass would allow. After a few seconds they were close enough. The pair of them jumped into Ron's shadow as hard as they could, pinning it down. The shadow went taut, and Ron's feet would no longer move forward as he tried to walk. He fell flat onto a heap of cushions Harry had shot underneath him at the last possible moment. When Hermione had recovered from the initial shock of having her boyfriend fall from her grasp, she turned around and saw Harry and Draco, sitting on the chest part of Ron's shadow, convulsed with mirth. Hermione, eyebrow raised, looked down and saw the other end of Ron's shadow, attached to his feet. Ron rolled over, looking around to see what he had tripped on. Harry and Draco quickly stepped off Ron's shadow, allowing him to stand again.

"Very funny," Ron called at the other two boys, who were still laughing. Hermione helped Ron up silently, evidently bursting to know how Harry and Draco had managed their little stunt.

Draco and Harry ran to catch up with Ron and Hermione, apologizing to Ron as they got there. Ron gruffly accepted their apology, though the top of his ears were plainly burning pink, in their characteristic fashion.

They had reached the lake. With a cursory glance across the lake to check the ice was solid all over, Draco stepped out onto it, and slid away across the surface of the still, glassy ice. Ron followed him, dashing out onto the lake a little overzealously. His feet slid out from underneath him, but as he started to fall, Draco caught him and set him right on his feet. With a dashing smile, Draco let go of Ron, who was trying to maintain the balance Draco had set.

"Th-thanks," he managed, though he was concentrating very hard on controlling his feet. One he was stable, he tried to move, but both feet moved in different directions and he ended up spread-eagled on the cold, hard ice. Harry and Hermione moved cautiously out onto the ice. They took and arm each, while Draco straightened Ron's legs and placing his feet in front of Ron's, to prevent them from sliding away again. Once Ron was upright once again, Draco skated off across the lake, carving a graceful arc across the ice, despite his flat-soles shoes offering no apparent purchase to facilitate it.

Harry was shuffling his feet, in an extremely ungainly manner, trying to catch up with Draco. Draco responded by skating wide circles round and round Harry, and it was only after several laps that Harry realised what he was doing. He had been so taken with Draco's elegant motion and poise that he found he wasn't particularly irritated. Draco swerved towards the centre of his arc and arrived in front of Harry sliding backwards before shooting a cloud of fine ice-particles across the lake as he dug his feet into the ice to stop, spinning slightly to face Harry. Draco offered his hand to Harry, who took it, placing his other hand on Draco's waist. They then set off across the lake together in a beautiful twirling dance over the frozen surface. Hermione, who after her first fall had decided that ice skating wasn't for her, crawled slowly to the edge of the lake and sat on the bank, closely followed by Ron. There they sat, hand in hand, admiring the other two boys as they shot across the ice.

There seemed to be a radiance coming from within the ice which, in conjunction with the silver moonlight, accentuated and complimented the graceful movements of the boys, and though it was a perfectly silent evening, save for the soft sheering noise of their shoes on the ice, something in the way they moved in perfect tandem had both Ron and Hermione nodding slightly to their quiet rhythm.

"They look so good together," said Hermione in little more than a whisper. Ron guessed she must have been talking to him, though he didn't know why she thought he would care. Though as he watched the silhouette of his best friend and his boyfriend, Ron could kind of see what she meant. The pair were virtually identical in height and stature; their tall slim forms, entwined, one with eminently blonde hair, styled with incredible suavity – the other with neat, dark hair, though with an obvious and slightly endearing rebellious tuft near the crown of his head. Draco's neck was slightly longer than Harry's though, and it held Draco's head slightly more elegantly. Both had straight-nosed, conventionally attractive faces, the broad smiles on each of which, as they stared, straight-backed, into each other's eyes, finished the picture. Hermione sighed slightly.

Ron elbowed her, to remind him that he was here, and that he was her boyfriend.

"I am still here, you know," he said in mock affront, "and you can't have either of them anyway – there's this little thing about those two, you see."

"And what's that?" asked Hermione, withdrawing her gaze from the elegant lake-dancers and looking into his eyes.

"They're in love," said Ron, smiling and leaning in towards Hermione. As their lips met Hermione sighed again. At length, Harry and Draco pirouetted to a halt before Ron and Hermione, both of whom applauded before they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

After an extended period of warming-up on the carpet in front of the fire, into which they had been throwing the wrappers from Christmas confectionery on which they had gorged themselves, by general consensus it was deemed to be the end of a wonderful evening. As the three boys bade Hermione goodnight and made their way towards the stairway to the boys' dormitories, Draco turned to speak.

"Hold on" Draco said, in his slow drawl, which sounded infinitely more likable without the coldness to which Ron and Hermione were accustomed, "are you two the only people who were here for Christmas in Gryffindor?"

"Yes," said Hermione. Draco's eyes twinkled.

"Well, how about we take the boys' dormitory, and you two take the girls', and we'll see you in the morning?"

Harry saw Ron's eyes light up, and hoped that it was a night with Hermione, as opposed to a night without Draco that had pleased him. However while the three boys started to smile, Hermione pointed out one small issue.

"Remember last year when that boy tried to get into our dormitory? The stairs shrieked and shot him back out the bottom!" she recalled aloud. Ron, however, was already off his feet. Draco had his wand pointed straight at Ron, and was levitating him towards the mouth of the stairway. Hermione stood open mouthed as Ron floated through the doorway and the klaxons started to sound. They made a deafening racket so that Ron, who was calling directions to Draco in order to avoid being dashed against the side of the spiral stairway, had to shout as loud as he could to be heard. Finally, the klaxons stopped as Ron cleared the stairwell, meaning that he could only have arrived in Hermione's dormitory. The slide eroded back into steps, and Draco invited her towards them with a gracious wave of his wand arm.

"Night!" she called, grinning, as Harry and Draco floated away in a manner similar to Ron's, towards the boys' staircase. "Goodnight," they called back, before vanishing behind the central column of the stairwell.

The night passed with very little sleep for any of the four, and when they each awoke the following morning they all felt incredibly contented and comfortable. Harry woke gently, shortly after ten, to find his back was resting gently against Draco's chest, and he dozed happily, absorbed in the gentle rising and falling of his boyfriend's chest, and the soft warm breath caressing the back of his neck. He smiled and snuggled back into Draco, who sighed in his sleep, and reached his arm further over Harry, unconsciously holding him close – savouring his warmth.

When they finally dressed each other and went down to the common room, they found Ron and Hermione sitting bunched up one end of an otherwise empty sofa, thoroughly entangled in each others limbs.

"Mmm," said Draco, backing Harry into an opposing sofa, and lounging back against him. The two couples smiled at each other.

The following week, between Christmas and New Year passed in a blur of passion for Harry. Every waking moment he spent in Draco's arms, savouring his taste, devouring his love, revelling in his touch. The pair of them thoroughly explored each others bodies, each feeling as if their love gave them ownership over each other – mind, body and soul. All Harry ever thought about, at the moment, was Draco. His heart felt constantly as if it could very easily burst from the pride and love he was feeling, as if he would never be able to handle any more pleasure. Though when his heart beat against Draco's, night after night, he felt calmer and more content than he ever had in his life. The steady touch of his boyfriend was new to him still, he had never been able to count on anything like that before.

After New Year, of course, the Gryffindor four were brought slightly closer to the real world when the rediscovered all the homework they had neglected over the previous two weeks. As Harry stared at a blank piece of parchment which he was supposed to hand in with a Potions essay written on it, and grudgingly opened his textbooks, the worry and uncertainty that had been entirely forgotten since Draco had become a Gryffindor returned to the pit of his stomach. Once again he was worried about what was to come, how the rest of the school – the rest of his friends – would react to his news.

He felt Draco's hand absently searching for his own as Draco dashed out his Potions essay in a very spiky, loopy, elegant hand – as their fingers entwined Harry realised that he had never noticed before the Draco used an italic quill. He stared at his boyfriend's handwriting, though still thinking about the lump in his stomach.

Draco squeezed Harry's hand then raised it to his lips, still writing, to kiss the back of it. In that moment, Harry felt as though he could stand on top of the highest tower in the castle and proudly proclaim, to the whole world, that he and Draco were in love.


	6. Chapter VI

Here's chapter 6 - enjoy! Its a bit of a short one, but I found it quite difficult to write. I have planned out where we're going next, and I'll be alternating writing this fic and my new one, "Fear"! Hope you like both - drop me a review, please if you have time, whether you enjoy or not. More to come..!

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Before anyone knew where the time had gone, it was the last night that Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione would have the entire of Gryffindor Tower to themselves. They had made a routine out of taking a wing of the tower per couple, with Harry and Draco taking the boys' staircase and Ron and Hermione retaining the girls'.

Even while Draco was fondling Harry's hair, and nudging him gently, neither of them were feeling particularly passionate, with the weight of what was to come weighing heavily on the pair of them. Harry was almost at the point of feeling physically sick whenever he though about what he was going to have to do. He felt as though he'd take a rematch with Fluffy, Hagrid's enormous three-headed dog, over having to tell the world that he was going out with Draco.

However secure Harry and Draco had felt in each others' arms over the past weeks, both of them were feeling the pressure now. Neither of them had eaten much the entire day. They lay on their backs beside each other, breathing in unison.

"It'll be OK, you know," Draco sighed. Harry shifted slightly on the bed.

"I hope so."

"I don't expect it to go down well – the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch heroes and both gay _and_ they're going out with _each other_. _And_ everyone in Gryffindor hates me. I suppose all the Slytherins will too, this time tomorrow," he continued. "Some loss," he mused, smiling slightly.

Harry leaned onto his side, so that his body was touching Draco's, taking comfort in his warmth. Draco slid his arm around Harry. Draco didn't use words to tell Harry any more.

_Whatever happens, I'll still love you_, he promised. Harry pushed one arm under Draco, and wrapped the other over his stomach, clasping his hands together on the far side of his boyfriend, and squeezed his reciprocation. Finally, all forms of conversation ceased, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

All four occupants of Gryffindor Tower awoke early the following day. Draco woke first, and after spending about half an hour watching Harry sleep, allowing him to continue while he showered. Draco was just smoothing a few stray creases out of his robes when Harry suddenly awoke, sitting up fast. Across the room, Draco started, and creased his robes again.

"Good morning," he said in mock reprove, brushing the crease away again. He crossed the room, robes in his wake, and kissed Harry good morning.

"Ugh – morning mouth," he said, with absent-minded resentment, as they broke apart. He grinned at Harry, who tried to smile back, but failed. Draco read his mind.

"We have to do this, Harry," he said, picking Harry's hand up off the bed and holding it between both of his own. "I mean, even if we got away with it all day, everyone would find out when they saw me sleeping in the extra bed anyway. It's best if we _go_ and tell everyone, instead of going 'oh, yeah' when they see us together anyway."

Harry knew he was right, and Draco pretended to smirk, as he again read Harry's mind.

"You don't have to act all calm for me," said Harry, sensing Draco's own unease, "I know you're nervous too."

"Yeah, well, I'm slightly more likely to be murdered than you are," Draco responded, glibly, "I'll be viciously outnumbered if everyone decides to rid the Tower of a Slytherin."

"_We'll_ be viciously outnumbered," Harry corrected him, squeezing Draco's hands back. Draco managed a smile.

When they went down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room, they found Ron sitting in an armchair by the fire, looking as if he was about to fall back to sleep, and Hermione pacing very fast around the room.

"_There_ you are," she said when she saw them, shepherding them into a sofa, and resuming her pacing to and fro in front of it. "have you thought about what you're going to do?"

"Tell everyone," said Harry, simply. Hermione stared at him.

"You're going to stand at the top of the marble stairs and let everyone see you?"

"No, don't be silly. We're going to let everyone in Gryffindor know, and then the rest of the school will find out on its own," said Harry, saying the first thing that came into his head. He hadn't considered that actual logistics of telling everyone he was gay, just that he was going to have to, and that he was going to have to today.

"Yeah – they'll all find out from Cho Chang, who _will_ be at the top of the marble staircase," said Draco, facetiously, "she always 'has to be first' with gossip." Hermione frowned, and led them all down to breakfast.

Breakfast was the usual fare it had been ever since Cho had found Harry and Draco in the Room of Requirement. Ever after that event, Draco had taken to sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry, Ron and Hermione. This had made little difference, as he was the only Slytherin left anyway, and the remaining Ravenclaws had shared the Hufflepuff table. As usual, all conversation died when the Gryffindors entered. On the Hufflepuff table, everyone was seated to face the Gryffindor table.

Hermione led, as usual, everyone to sit with their backs to everyone else, though this didn't stop the whispering and tittering from behind. _She still can't get enough of you, Harry,_ thought Draco as Cho Chang giggled loudly. Harry smiled.

When the rest of the school arrived back at Hogwarts on the train, Harry and Draco were sitting together by the lake. Ron and Hermione were inside, because Ron said it was 'cold' and Hermione couldn't stand Harry and Draco looking calm.

Harry didn't think that they looked particularly calm; certainly neither of them felt it. Hermione, however, seemed to think that they didn't look disconcerted _enough_.

The part of the shore that the boys had chosen, which they had selected because it was closest to the front door of the castle, as opposed to any requirements in terms of seclusion, was viewable in its entirety from the route the horseless carriages took from Hogsmeade station to the main entrance to Hogwarts Castle. The two boys sat there, holding each others' hands and talking animatedly about nothing in particular, completely unaware of the school processing past behind them.

In truth, not many people spotted the two boys sitting by the lake together, they were still wrapped up in each others' holiday stories. Everyone from the carriages went directly into the Welcoming Feast laid on in the Great Hall. Harry and Draco, however, along with Ron and Hermione, who had all eaten well at lunchtime, returned to Gryffindor's common room to savour the final hour or so of privacy, before it was back to business as usual. The two couples were sat opposite each other, in sofas either side of a low table, in the corner of the room. The fire they had built that morning was, due to their nerves when they had conjured it, still far too hot to sit near to. The sofas were arranged, by pure chance, so that they both faced towards the portrait hold entrance to the room. When the first few people started trickling back to the common room after the feast had evidently let out, Harry braced himself for the worse.

A huge crowd of Gryffindors arrived all at once, about half a minute after those who could remember the password had opened the portrait hole. They were all talking loudly and were laughing and joking. They fanned out across the room, finding chairs and sofas and starting to settle in large groups. Just as Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione's conversation died at the sight of the rest of the House returning, so did the noise that those other members were making. There was a loud shout.

"The _fuck_ is _he_ doing in here?" The entire common room fell silent, as everyone looked around to see who 'he' was. It didn't take long. Draco's normally pale cheeks, which had been reddening more and more in apprehension, were suddenly chalk white, paler than usual; he looked like he was suddenly very ill. The crowd, whilst continuing not to talk, crossed the room and formed a semi-circle against the wall – an enclosure around the pair of sofas on which the Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione were sitting. Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably and looked at the floor. Ron, like everyone else in the room, was looking between Harry and Draco.

The crowd of Gryffindors, all of whom look angry to various degrees, remained still silent. They were evidently waiting for an answer to the anonymous question. Harry nervously cleared his throat. Every pair of eyes in the room suddenly switched to focus on him.

"He is here because he is now in Gryffindor," said Harry, not meeting the eyes of anyone in the crowd. It sounded like a lame thing to say, even though it was entirely true. He had never imagined that this would be this hard to do. Still, his nerves were understandable, with a hundred pairs of eyes fixed on his face. His face burned. He could tell what the next question was going to be. Finally it came – another anonymous voice in the crowd.

"Why the hell is he in _our_ House?"

Before he could answer, another voice sounded – it was Dean Thomas, who was standing right at the front and, Harry noticed, looked like he had just stepped on a Bubotuber.

"_Fucking hell!! Malfoy's holding Potter's hand!!_"

There was an explosion of noise. Harry looked down at the sofa and saw his hand in Draco's. He looked up at Draco, who started to withdraw his hand from Harry's. Harry took hold of it, though, and shook his head slightly to Draco. Draco looked like he would have liked to have smiled back at Harry, but he couldn't do it, so nervous was he.

The noise abruptly stopped, and everyone was staring at Harry and Draco with expressions much like Dean's on their faces. Harry looked through the crowd and saw nothing but the same thing. He did not dare look at Ron and Hermione. He stood abruptly, and pulled Draco to his feet also.

To the sound of catcalls and wolf whistles, Harry pushed through the barging crowd towards the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitories, leading Draco. They were jostled by some members of the crowd, while others backed away. Draco got both worse than Harry did.

Harry was heartened, but only slightly, to see some slightly less aggressive expressions nearer the back of the group. Neville was standing near the base of the stairs, looking almost as worried and confused as Harry felt. He looked at Neville as he passed, though Neville nervously dropped his gaze. Harry understood, he would have wished anyone else to be on his side of the crowd. Neville moved as if to follow the two boys up the stairs, but obviously thought better of it, and lurched slightly before stopping again. Harry felt his ears burn as he and Draco mounted the stairs and collapsed onto Harry's bed, still holding hands. They both sighed heavily, and stared at different points on the opposite wall. They did not kiss goodnight before they retired to their beds, but there was a lot of _thinking_ going on about what had just happened, and about having to face tomorrow, knowing it was going to be worse than today was, and knowing that today had been worse than either of them had thought it could be.

Back down in the common room, the crowd dispersed angrily, and small conversations broke out about the pair who were now asleep in the boys' dormitory.

"As long as their in different beds and that _Slytherin_ isn't in mine," Dean was heard to observe loudly. Hermione looked seriously at Ron as his lip twitched in reaction to they neither of them had left their chairs, but Ron had been looking rather uncomfortable ever since Dean had first spoken up.


	7. Chapter VII

Harry and Draco wake up with the reality that now - everybody knows. How will the school react? And can Harry rely on the support of his friends to guide him through? Read on....

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By the time that the other Gryffindor boys came up to the dormitory Harry and Draco were still both very much awake, sharing their thoughts about what had just happened.

'_Well I suppose it could have gone worse – they could have attacked us,'_ thought Draco.

'_Who's to say they won't tomorrow? And what about Slytherin?'_ He seemed to have punched right so the centre of what Draco was worried about.

'_Well we'll have to see, won't we – wands at breakfast, I think!'_

There was a momentary lapse in their thoughts, as they both heard the dormitory door open. It didn't take them long to find out that it was Dean and Seamus who had entered. The obviously assumed that Draco and Harry's silence indicated that they were asleep, and didn't trouble to keep their voices down.

"Well both hangings are drawn, hopefully that means they're in different beds at least," came Dean's voice.

"Yeah," said Seamus' voice, "don't want them fucking in here while people are trying to sleep."

"Or any time for that matter." They chuckled. Harry was hurt – out of Dean and Seamus, who were good friends, Dean had been the one who has stuck up for him, at least a little, the previous year when Seamus had thought Harry insane. Now he had been the instigator of what happened downstairs, and was now taking the rise with no concern for whether Harry or Draco may be listening.

'_Ignore them,'_ thought Draco.

'_It's kind of hard when they're talking that loudly,'_ was Harry's reply, in as much of a snap as one can achieve in telepathic communication.

'_After all those years of trying to make life hard for you – all that effort when all I had to do to get you properly mocked was go out with you. What a waste of four years!'_

It worked – Harry's mind was successfully taken off whatever Dean and Seamus might be saying as the silent couple considered just what they might have spent the last four years doing, if not trying to outdo the other. At length, Harry was aware that the thoughts he was receiving from Draco were becoming slower and less coherent, and realised that Draco must be falling asleep. It was an odd sensation, as it had been a long time since they had been doing anything as passive as _thinking_ to each other when they had fallen asleep. An active, silent conversation ending like that gave Harry the same sensation of peace he had felt when watching Draco fall asleep – his eyes gently drifting shut, only every time Harry had watched Draco fall asleep, Draco had snuggled up tight against Harry as if to stop people stealing him in the night. That had always made Harry's heart swell, feeling that someone desperately needed him, as opposed to just knowing it, due to magical prophecy. Harry finally fell asleep with these thoughts to comfort him somewhat.

The following morning both Harry and Draco woke early, their nerves jangling in nervous anticipation of what would happen today. If the reaction of the Gryffindors was anything to go by, they could not expect a particularly warm reception to their news from the rest of the school, particularly from Draco's old House, Slytherin. The last time Harry could never remember having a lump this large in his throat. Even a quick kiss from Draco before the other boys woke up did little to dislodge it, it merely pounded a little, making Harry feel as if his heart had actually moving into his throat, waiting for someone downstairs to rip it out and show everyone.

The boys showered separately, at Harry's insistence, though he did have a good look at Draco both when he came out of the shower dripping wet, and while he preened his hair in front of a very flattering mirror – "I haven't seen you before, dear," it said, "wouldn't mind seeing you again though! You look gorgeous." It chuckled gently as Draco smiled at it. He then flashed the smile over to Harry as he caught him watching.

"Its right, you know," said Harry, grinning back. Draco pretended to be embarrassed by Harry's comment by turning away and placing his hands between Harry and himself, feeling rather flattered. Draco watched as Harry made his usual, yet short, daily attempt to get the tuft of hair at the back of his head to sit flat. Harry had, over the years, tried just about everything that didn't involve Sleekeasy's Hair Potion, which he could never be bothered with. He felt as if his approach was a little slap-dash having just witnessed Draco's perfectionist's attention to detail in grooming himself.

Admitting defeat once again, Harry turned from the mirror, which was tutting, to Draco and grinned. Draco looked at Harry's hair and chuckled.

"It's a good job I like it like that," he said, still giggling a little, and led Harry from the room. Harry followed at a distance at which he could admire Draco walking. Harry found it amazing how Draco could make even boring black Hogwarts school robes look good and exciting. Perhaps it was the way he walked, or the way that his robes were perfectly creaseless from top to bottom, topped off with his sleeked back, white blond hair, and pointed features. Draco could possibly not be described as conventionally good-looking, but he undoubtedly looked good, his combination of strong, defined features, with an underlying fragility making for a package Harry, obviously, could not resist. He wondered what Draco saw in _him_, and then thought fairly that he was reasonably good looking, Parvati Patil at least had seemed rather taken aback, and rather pleased that Harry had asked her to the Yule Ball – she was after all one of the best-looking girls in Gryffindor, and had not had a date at the last stage at which Harry had asked her. He had come to like to think that Parvati had been waiting for him.

Not that it mattered at all now though – for one thing he had ignored her for the large part of the evening, preferring Ron's company, and combined with the revelations about Hagrid, and Ron's eminent annoyance at Hermione going to the ball with Viktor Krum.

He followed Draco back through the sixth year boys' dormitory and down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, which was still quite empty. There were a few dark shapes silhouetted in chairs around the edges of the room, but nobody approached them. Harry was uncomfortably aware that they were probably watching him, but did not care as he crossed the room with Draco, and took a seat beside him by the fire, which was still just glowing embers from the night before. Gradually the room filled again. Nobody approached them; they seemed to be deliberately leaving an exclusion zone around the two boys. Apart from the odd loud comment, almost everyone acted as if Harry and Draco weren't there. Harry was suddenly aware that Draco was planning to make a loud to everyone that if they came and sat in the multitude of spare seats in proximity to himself and Harry, that the would not 'catch gay', but Harry stopped him in time. Draco sulkily agreed not to say anything. After a few more minutes, his heart still in his throat and his hand on his wand, Harry led Draco through the crowd towards the portrait hole and they left the common room.

The previous night Harry and Draco had deliberated about making a grand, late entrance to the Great Hall for breakfast, so that everybody would see them all at once, and all the teachers would be present to protect them somewhat from any physically untoward response from their fellow students.

Reason had prevailed, however, as Harry had pointed out that they would have to walk past the Slytherin table to get to the Gryffindor one, and they were unlikely to make it if everyone had already heard and wanted to _see_ them about it. It was, of course unlikely that they would make it back out of the room afterwards as well, but that was a risk they were going to have to take, as Draco pointed out bluntly that he was not going to do without food for any period of time, for anyone. Harry felt the same – he was ravenous, having not really eaten properly since lunchtime the previous day.

After they left the common room the two boys welcomed the utter silence of the corridors they chose to walk down. They took an extended route to the Great Hall, though were still careful to ensure that they didn't arrive too late. Their route took them well away from any of the House common rooms, so when the reached an empty corridor – the same empty corridor Draco had taken himself off to on the first day back – they stopped walking.

More accurately, _Draco_ stopped them walking, by gently pushing Harry up against a wall. Harry smiled as he allowed Draco to manhandle him so that his back was against the wall, and opened his mouth slightly to receive Draco's long tongue as he approached. Through the anguish they were both feeling, the touch was the only constant, apart from the constant jeering. Harry and Draco melted into each other, revelling in the pleasure of each other's touch. Draco's hands worked at Harry's sides, caressing his torso, before moving up around Harry's neck to his head, so that Draco could hold him close and prolong their kiss. Harry was numbly thinking that Draco was exquisite in every detail, when he realised that Draco was moaning quietly, yet very contentedly, at his own hands. Harry was aware of one of his hands splayed across Draco's back, holding their bodies close together, and the other tousling Draco's hair. After admiring Draco minutes ago in the bathroom, he had completely forgotten about not creasing Draco's robes and the effort he always put into perfecting his hair, as had Draco. All that mattered in those few, precious moments was that they were together as one.

They finally, unwillingly, broke apart – lips pursed and tongues outstretched as each sought to allow the contact to last for as long as possible. Harry tenderly licked his own lips now, savouring any last taste of Draco. Draco smiled at him contentedly, the beautiful turn-down at the end of his lips, which Harry adored, curling elegantly upwards in a dashing grin. Harry shifted his gaze from Draco's soft, smooth lips to his eyes, those bottomless grey eyes which Harry felt he would happily drown in. Draco held Harry's gaze while he slipped one of his small, yet quite long-fingered, pale hands into his robes to retrieve his wand. He held it as arm's length and trained the tip of it towards his head as far as he could. He breathed an incantation, not wanting particularly to disturb the calm that had fallen between himself and Harry, and his hair sleeked itself smartly back into its usual, impeccable style. Another breath and his robes decreased entirely and hung richly and flowingly from his shoulders, running a shapely inward curve down to the floor, where the hem flared slightly. Harry thought he looked gorgeous anyway, but admired the suaveness with which Draco presented himself, and the ease with which he did so. He then turned his wand on Harry, and the tuft of hair that Harry had had forever flattened down perfectly, and his own robes looked freshly ironed, though in Harry's own opinion he didn't think he probably looked half as good as Draco.

They smiled to each other again, before Draco regally extended his hand to Harry to escort him as far as they dared to the Great Hall, before they would walk together but with no contact into breakfast. Even holding hands produced an electric tingle for Harry, starting in his hand before working up his arm and into his neck, making the hair on his neck stand up. He was sure that if they held on too long the untidy part of his hair on the crown of his head would spring back up again, but he did not care in the slightest.

They released each others hands at the top of a flight of stairs two floors above the marble staircase into the Entrance Hall, but figured that this was probably as far as they could safely go holding hands.

"Of course, _after_ breakfast we'll be able to hold hands as much as we like, because everyone will be on at us anyway, most probably," he said, though Harry had tensed up again and did not appreciate the humour. Draco did not laugh either, and Harry decided that his was probably Draco's way of dealing with nervousness. Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed it one more time for moral support before they plunged down the final flight of marble steps into the Entrance Hall – which was empty. Taking several deeps breaths each, they pushed the door open and entered the hall.

The instant silence that fell indicated immediately to Harry that Cho Chang, probably with help from a number of Gryffindors, had done an immensely effective job of telling pretty much everyone about Harry and Draco. Harry felt his face burning as hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on himself and Draco as they walked determinedly across the hall to the Gryffindor table. Harry became aware, as Draco thought it, that Draco was not used to this much attention. He had always sought attention, but had only ever really received it from his gang of Slytherins, rather than the entire school at once. Even the teachers were looking at them, some apprehensively, some interestedly, and some calmly, and some tensely. Harry could tell that Professor McGonagall was just _looking_ to hand out some Slytherin detentions. Dumbledore watched the two of them cross the Hall with his fingers steepled and his lips pursed slightly.

After an eternity Harry and Draco had made it to the Gryffindor table, and sat on the benches opposite Hermione, which meant that though they were against the far wall of the Hall they were looking into it, so could still see in their peripheral vision, as they focused hard on their empty plates, that almost everyone was still craning in their direction. There was a general murmur in the hall. Harry wondered remotely whether everyone would be so interested if it had been anybody else, because not only had Harry and Draco been in different Houses that hated each other anyway, but they had been arch-rivals since their very first day at school. He also noted with a tingle of flattery that lots of girls seemed to be interested in himself and Draco, especially Cho Chang, whom he saw was looking at him whenever he looked in her direction, all breakfast.

On their way back out of the hall the two of them received some very unpleasant threats from the Slytherins who were still at breakfast, and Harry saw Pansy Parkinson talking to her gang of girls apparently convinced that she'd known about Draco's 'problem', as she put it, for as long as she had known him, and had pretended to be friendly with him to try to 'help him back to normal'. Harry thought grimly that he could believe the part about pretending to be Draco's friend, when he heard one of the girls reply that she thought it was cool that Pansy had had a gay best friend, at which point she changed tack entirely and started talking about all the conversations she had apparently had with Draco about guys, and fashion, and makeup, amongst other things.

The Slytherin Quidditch team were all glaring at Draco – the only member of their team who was actually any good had left them, leaving them not standing much of a chance in the House Cup any more, especially if he was to start playing against them. It was not a stony glare he received however; there was a lot of knuckle-cracking going on, and Crabbe and Goyle were threatening to pulverize Draco with Bludgers in their capacity as Beaters. Draco thought, to Harry, that that was not any particular threat as both their aims was so poor, but Harry could tell that Draco did not appreciate the sentiments. Even at the end of the staff table Snape was glaring at him, though Snape glared at everything anyway, so that was no particular indication of any additional displeasure than that which Snape held for anything that was not himself.

The murmuring and attention became very tiresome though, and throughout the day Draco and Harry were trying their best to ignore the situation. They spent the large part of the day consoling each other. As Draco was now taking lessons with the Gryffindors they spent the large part of the day together, apart from when Harry had Divination and Draco had Arithmancy. Due to clashes between Divination and Arithmancy in the Gryffindor timetable, Draco had had to drop Divination, and despite what he had said to Harry about it previously, he wasn't that cut up about it. Draco had joined Hermione's group for the subject, and seemed to enjoy the experience of being able to get to know how she worked, from a standpoint which didn't require him to deride her for her heritage for the benefit of his peers. Hermione mentioned to Harry quietly at dinner how impressed she had been with Draco's attitude since they had returned from Privet Drive, and for some reason Harry felt proud of Draco. He supposed it was because Draco seemed to be making an effort, either specifically for Harry or because he actually had the opportunity of getting to know them properly now, to get along with Ron and Hermione.

Back in the Gryffindor common room that evening the atmosphere had returned almost to normal, as people returned to their work, and began to pay a little less attention to Harry and Draco, the boys found that it was a little easier to concentrate on their work, though it was true to say that not a lot of people had a lot to say to them. Dean and Seamus were sitting in Harry's favourite place by the fire, and Harry was slightly upset to see that Ron had decided to join them. He did not like the look on the part of Seamus' face that he could see, or the fact that at several times during the evening he had been aware of Dean turning to look in his direction, then start shaking and turn back to his group again. He was sure that he and Draco were a great source of entertainment for them at the moment.

Hermione, for the first time in a while, was not sat entwined with Ron. They had entered the common room together after dinner but, when Ron had headed over to the fire where Dean and Seamus had already been sitting, Hermione had remained with Draco and Harry, who had chosen to sit in a corner out of peoples' way.

Neville had come over to them for a brief spell, but had not sat down and had quickly headed off to sit alone with Trevor, casting furtive glances across the room, to struggle through his Potions work. Harry realised that since Ginny had returned after the holidays, she had not spoken to Harry; in fact he had not really seen her at all. This was unusual, as Ginny liked to have girly chats with Hermione. Harry looked around the room for her, and saw her sitting with a group of girls from her own year. He was surprised to see that she had obviously been staring in his direction, but not as surprised as she was to see Harry looking in hers. She quickly dropped her gaze back down to her work. Even across the room Harry could see her face and the tips of her ears reddening.

Harry and Draco again retired to bed before most other people, especially the other occupants of their dormitory. Again they both lay there, each alone in their beds, thinking about the day that had passed. Again, both were wide awake though hidden behind their hangings when the other boys came to bed. Neville came up first, still alone, and quietly turned in. Then Ron, Dean and Seamus turned up about half an hour later after Neville had fallen asleep (it had been his snores that had identified him to Harry).

Dean, Seamus and Ron were _still_ talking about Harry and Draco.

"I hope they haven't been at it tonight," Dean said, reusing his joke from the previous night. It went down just as well as it had the first time, though Harry was mortified to hear Ron's gruff laugh intermingled with Dean's and Seamus' guffawing. He began to feel numb and tuned out to what the three boys were saying as they continued their snide joking. He heard thoughts from Draco in his head, but he could not respond. A rage like that he had felt when Ron had accused him of getting his own name into the Goblet of Fire was coursing through him. He was so angry he wanted to cry, and pummel everything he could reach into a million pieces. He grabbed his pillow and stuffed a corner of it into his mouth to prevent himself from making any sound, biting into it hard, angry tears leaking from the corners of his eyes onto the pillowcase. Then he heard Draco's voice.

"For a group of such staunch homophobes, you seem to be irresistibly interested in Harry's and my relationship. One could be mistaken in thinking you're all jealous, talking behind our backs," he called, harshly through the hangings.

If he had expected to get away with this, thought that the three boys would be taken aback and abashed by what he had said, Draco was wrong. Harry's feelings of hurt were immediately replaced entirely by angry, joining that considerable amount of anger he was already feeling.

He could barely hear Ron, Dean and Seamus crossing the room and tearing down Draco's hangings, Draco's futile attempts to reach his wand in time, Draco's anguished cries of fright and pain, over the blood roaring in his ears. He snatched his wand out from under his pillow and tore back the hangings of his bed. He was dismayed to see Dean and Seamus pinning Draco's arms down, keeping the boy stationery, while his legs thrashed wildly, and he bucked and arched his back in an attempt to shift them.

"Oooh," said Dean nastily, "we like that, don't we. Is that what Harry does for us?"

Harry took a split second to take in the scene: Draco looking frightened out of his mind – outnumbered and defenceless against three angry boys with wands; Dean and Seamus restraining Draco painfully, jeering nastily at him; and Ron looking torn between savage pleasure at seeing Draco, whom he had long hated receiving some kind of comeuppance, and aghast at the nature of his friends.

Dean was laughing harshly so that he loosened his grip on Draco's right upper-arm slightly. In a wrench of effort and power disproportionate to his thin, lightly-muscled body, Draco snatched his arm out from Dean's grasp, but the other boy slammed his grip back down on Draco's hand, causing him to whimper slightly as his fingers were becoming crushed.

Dean was working his wand, obviously about to hex or worse, curse, Draco.

As Harry's face contorted and he raised his wand, Ron caught sight of him and his expression changed to one of fear.

"_Expelliarmus_," he bellowed, his voice torn with rage. The power of Harry's emotion launched Dean, who was the far side of Draco's bed to Harry, against the wall, and Seamus' wand was blasted from his hand also. Draco ducked the spell by scrunching into the mattress, and seized the opportunity to free himself finally from the boys' restraint. Seamus scrabbled over the bed for Dean's dropped wand and whirled, but Harry was ready for him.

"_Stupify_," he bellowed, in the same awful voice. He stood over the prone bodies of his two fellow Gryffindors. He then turned his gaze to Ron, the same expression of awesome anger on his face. Ron retreated slowly to the door, breaking into a run as he reached the top of the stairs.

He lowered his wand and looked back at Draco, curled up at the bottom of his bed. He was staring up at Harry, a look offright still plain upon his face.


	8. Chapter VIII

A shorty, but a goody, I hope. I am aware that I haven't posted in a while, and I didn't want you to think I was neglecting you. I have exams this week, so I'm unlikely to update again for about a fortnight, unless I have an overwhelming urge to visit Harry and Draco (which isn't entirely unlikely)!!

_Harry and Draco are starting to find a way to come to terms with what Ron and his friends did – who will they turn to? In the mean time, there is other stuff to be thinking about, and how will Gryffindor react to what may happen?_

Harry stood still, only his head moving as Ron walked quickly to his four-poster bed and hastily drew the hangings without even changing into his pyjamas. He finally lowered his wand and softened his expression a little before moving to sit beside Draco. He sat about halfway up the bed while Draco sat at the bottom, watching Harry in silence. They looked into each others eyes. One boy saw fright and worry, the other anger and concern.

Harry slid down towards Draco and offered his hand to the boy. Draco took it tentatively; Harry could feel Draco's hand trembling, and gave it a gentle squeeze of support. Draco finally slid his legs over the side of the bed to sit beside Harry, staring glumly at the floor. Harry leant over and put his right arm around the frightened boy, his left hand holding Draco's right, on Draco's lap. At length the blonde withdrew his gaze from the floor and fixed Harry with an adoring stare. His grey eyes seemed warmer than they ever had before, to Harry; possibly because they were wetter than usual with anguish and relief he had experienced whilst reliving the previous ten minutes in his head. Harry smiled weakly and watched as Draco tried to smile back.

"Are you OK?" Harry asked finally, seeing that Draco wasn't going to speak first.

"Mm-hmm" Draco hummed quietly, contemplating Harry, his eyes still focussed on Harry's emerald irises. "I was scared that would happen," he admitted finally, "but not because of what could have happened to me, but because I thought that you might not defend me against your friends."

Harry swallowed. "How could you think that I wouldn't stick up for you?" he asked finally, trying not to let tears well up in his eyes as he thought of how unnecessarily scared Draco had been that Harry would take his old friends over Draco. He wanted to be strong for Draco.

"I just thought that," he swallowed, "maybe, even though you're stuck with me forever, that you might turn against me again if everyone else ganged up on me," he finished, looking back down at the floor.

Harry sat in silence for a few moments, then reached out to Draco's face, cupping his hand under Draco's chin.

"Look at me," said Harry, quietly, following Draco's chin with his hand, then moving his hand to place it against Draco's usually pale, but now slightly blotchy cheek. "If anybody has a problem with you, or us, then they have a problem with me. Whatever happens, we're together – I'm not _'stuck_' with you, and I hope that you don't feel stuck with me – we'd be good even if it wasn't for the magic."

Draco sniffed, and Harry swallowed slightly. He had never said anything like that before. He thought it was probably something that he would ordinarily have expected Hermione to say. But then he _wouldn't_ have expected his friends to have reacted in the way they had, so it wasn't really a day for whatever 'ordinary' was. He felt Draco move against him, and looked down.

"Thank you, Harry," he said weakly. Then in a stronger voice, "you were damn scary, you know – it was really sexy." He smiled up at Harry, who smiled back. Trust Draco to brush off everything that had just happened – just like that. The pair of them heard a loud cough from Ron's bed, as he unsubtly indicated that he was still awake. Harry scowled and made to start across to tell Ron exactly how he felt about Draco, but Draco held onto his arm.

"You don't have to destroy _all_ of your friendships in one night," he said. This did not placate Harry particularly, but he remained at Draco's side. He looked around the room distractedly, Ron's attitude irritating him deeply. As he looked over at Neville's bed, the boy shifted and Harry thought he saw his eyes snap shut, and evidence on his lips that he was suppressing a small smile.

Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's, and adjusted so that their noses touched.

"Night," he breathed. Draco shifted to move in towards Harry, but at that moment Harry withdrew his face from Draco's and got back into his own bed. Before they each drew their hangings they propped their heads on their forearms and looked at each other. Finally they smiled and both drew their hangings around their beds.

One person who did not seem at all bothered about what everybody else thought was Angelina Johnson. She had been made Captain of Gryffindor Quidditch for her final year at Hogwarts, and was eager to recruit Draco to the team. At the end of the week, on Friday at dinner, she had walked up to Harry and Draco who had been sitting with Hermione, apart from the rest of the House, and addressed Draco directly.

"I want you at Quidditch practise," she said, very directly, "at ten-thirty tomorrow morning. Its not an early start, being as it's the beginning of the season, but I think you both ought to get some sleep tonight, as I want a full day's session tomorrow. The team haven't played since before the Triwizard Tournament, and I want to get everything up and running again properly – especially if we're incorporating a new member. Harry." She acknowledged Harry as she walked back off down the table. Harry wondered vaguely about what Angelina thought they got up to that would preclude them from sleeping at night, but doubted if she was anywhere near the mark. Seamus and Dean had not told anyone what Harry had done to them, and Harry and Draco had told noone except Hermione. Ron was also keeping quiet about the whole incident, and had not spoken to Harry for the entire week.

Hermione had not spoken to Ron either. The morning after Harry had Stunned Seamus and Dean to sleep, once he and Draco had washed and dressed, he had _Enervated_ the two boys from the doorway before quickly leaving the room. Hermione had been down in the common room waiting for Ron, who had not appeared.

"Have you seen Ron?" she had asked, the moment she had seen Harry.

"I thought he would have been with you – he's not upstairs," had been Harry's truthful, yet disinterested-sounding reply. Hermione had shot a look between Harry and Draco, then demanded they spill everything.

By the time they had finished their story about how the three boys had bullied and threatened Draco in the dormitory the previous night, she had been incredibly angry, though had reproached Harry slightly for not having revived the boys the previous night.

"They weren't about to try anything else," she had said, though she had accepted Harry's argument that it would have been too late had he been sleep.

"You can't Stun them to sleep every night, though," she had pressed.

"Watch me," Harry had replied, menacingly. This had drawn a half-adoring, half-worried look from Draco. Harry was aware that Draco did not expect him to rearrange his world to accommodate their new relationship, but as much as Draco didn't like the idea that Harry should jeopardize what he already had, Harry wanted to make sure that Draco didn't feel as if he would ever be subject to his wrath. He had seen the look of fright in Draco's eyes as he had looked at him over the Stunned bodies of Seamus and Dean.

"I read about a Shield charm that might be useful, or you could always Imperturb your hangings," Hermione had suggested helpfully, before falling deadly silent as she had spotted Ron skulking into the room and carefully selecting a seat which he had thought was out of view.

Hermione, not one to make a scene, had excused herself from Harry and Draco and had quickly crossed the room to Ron. The two boys could see that he had obviously patted the seat beside him on the sofa he had chosen, in the sickly sweet way couples have of inviting the others' company, but Hermione had sat rigidly in an armchair set at right-angles to the sofa, right by where Ron was sitting. She had leant in close and Harry could see her whispering furiously at Ron. Hermione had returned to them a few minutes later, leaving Ron looking stunned, still looking angry, and stiffly suggested they go down to breakfast. That had been the last time the incident had been mentioned.

Obviously his usual position of Seeker was already very capably occupied by Harry, though Draco turned out to exhibit many more skills than he had heretofore showcased on the Quidditch pitch. During Keeper tryouts (Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's previous Keeper had left Hogwarts two years previously), Draco was once again exhibiting the explosive force his delicate frame could exert an amount of energy, on objects such as Quaffles, which was surprising to all those who had underestimated him, which was most of the Gryffindor team.

Being similarly built, almost exactly the same size and build as Draco, Harry could understand where the power came from; during practise sessions previously he, Harry, had surprised even the Chasers with his ability to throw the Quaffle very hard during warm-ups.

His weight, and inherent agility, combined with Draco's immense flying skill made him perfect to fill the position of Keeper, which had been left vacant by Oliver Wood who had left the school at the end of Harry's third year. Keeper was a position more often associated with bulkier players, purely for the beating usually received from opposing Beaters and their Bludgers.

Other members of Gryffindor House, who had turned up after Angelina had opened the place up to competition from all who were willing to try-out, looked aggrieved by his performance. Ron, particularly, looked rather bitter. Harry had been surprised to see Ron arrive at the Quidditch pitch with a school broom, and took a degree of satisfaction from seeing all three Chasers - Alicia, Katie and Angelina herself – put several easy goals past him. Draco had not let past a one.

Once the tryouts were completed, the hopefuls were hovering in front of Angelina – though it was truthful to say, Harry thought, that they did not _look_ particularly hopeful. When Angelina announced that Draco had made the team, the others descended back to ground level without a word, though Harry was sure he saw Ron make a bitter-looking comment to some second-year Harry didn't know. This left Draco looking small and alone, nervously facing the team. Fred and George thumped their Beaters' bats into their palms in the silence before Angelina, who had been making sure everyone left the stadium quietly, returned and rebuffed them.

"Draco is now a member of this team," she had said firmly to them, "and anyone who has a problem with him or any other member of this team can leave now." Fred and George, the only two who had had a problem (the girls seemed to have warmed to Draco already) had quickly apologized to Angelina and the training commenced.

The training session went well – the Chasers practised all their manoeuvres and formation flying, though for the entire day they had entirely failed to put a single goal past Draco. Harry had caught and re-released the Snitch about fifty times, always quickly retrieving it, though as part of their practise Fred and George had almost broken Harry's hand by belting a Bludger at the _Snitch_, smashing it out of Harry's reach. Harry turned around and grinned at the twins, who were grinning too.

"Good shot wasn't it," Fred had called. Harry had only smiled in return – he wasn't sure about the twins' attitude, whether or not they meant that almost getting _him_ or hitting the Snitch with the Bludger had been 'good' about the shot.

Angelina was keen to keep her team selection a secret before their first Quidditch game because she figured it would play into Gryffindor's hands to unnerve the other team, or make them overconfident at taking on such a diminutive-looking Keeper. She, and the rest of the team, doubted whether the news would remain secret for long though. With gossip about Harry and Draco rampant in the castle, it was likely that the larger portion of the school was aware already.

After most of the team had left the changing rooms at the end of the successful day's training, Angelina took Draco aside briefly and enthusiastically expressed her pleasure at his performance. Draco was beaming at Harry when they left the stadium together, unaware that Angelina was watching them walk away into the sunset with an even bigger smile on her face – they would win the Quidditch cup for sure this year.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, the room was once again hissing vehemently when Harry and Draco re-entered; it seemed that the House was most displeased with the fact that Draco had come over from Slytherin and taken a _Gryffindor's_ place on the Quidditch team. Both of them were too tired to point out that Draco was not only now a Gryffindor but an excellent player, and after only a short spell sitting with Hermione in their usual corner (during which Hermione threatened to go get Professor McGonagall to shut everyone else up, which Harry thought was very poor idea) Harry and Draco stood, and left the common room.

After the portrait hole had swung shut behind them, the two boys linked their fingers and sighed deeply. However tiresome life with the Gryffindors got they could always find solace in each other's company. In the middle of a dark corridor they paused on their way for a brief, tender kiss. Draco gently manoeuvred Harry so that his back was against a wall, and though Harry could hardly see him in the dark, after Draco had removed his glasses, he knew exactly when Draco's lips were going to touch his own. When that contact came though, that knowledge and confidence did not prevent him from shaking with pleasure – Draco always made him feel this way. For a couple of minute they were lost in each other's worlds, their tongues caressing and their desires aligned. They broke apart, breathing heavily, though in unison. Smiling at each other, in pleasure and inherent happiness in each others' company, they set off again.

_Where are we going, anyway?_ Asked Draco, mentally.

_Anywhere but Gryffindor Tower, _Harry replied, not letting on that he knew exactly where they _were_ going – they were going to see someone who would not ridicule them, who would say exactly what he thought, who might understand. They were going to see Hagrid.

There will be more Quidditch in the next chapter, and plenty more _other_ action to look out for too! Please review – Logan.


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